Stolen Moments
by noangeleither
Summary: You're frozen in time, you're holding your breath, and you're a statue, waiting for something that's never going to happen... Living for stolen moments in hotel hallways and coat closets. You keep telling yourself they all add up to something real, because in your mind, they have to; But they don't. They won't. They never will because stolen moments aren't a life.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One.**

To say that Fitzgerald Grant III was a despairing man living in a rather dreary existence is an understatement. He downed his whiskey with eyes soaked in melancholy and leaned back into his plush but firm office chair. His office was drenched in the waning light of day, slightly overcast with red from the admirable sunset that Fitz bothered not to glance at. There was a deep mahogany desk with trinkets sprinkled at its edge, arranged by his wife, Mellie, and a rug, gifted to him by his dear friend, that had been imported from an antique shop in London. A tall lamp stood proudly in the corner, more for decor really, since Fitz rarely used it. Books were organized alphabetically on a dark bookshelf that rested to the left of his desk, covered with glass doors in order to seal them away from dust and premature destruction. The room itself was painted a rich brown that made it seem to close in on anyone who stepped foot inside, especially the man who spent the most time there; Fitz. The liquor burned down his throat with each sip he took, but he enjoyed the sensation since it distracted him greatly from the woes of his day that he could not seem to escape.

Fitz found it difficult not to sigh when he heard a meek and timid Mellie Grant outside his door. She was debating with herself on whether or not to call Cyrus to fix the mess that she had unwillingly orchestrated or to simply talk to her husband and calm his raging nerves. Her throat pulsed lightly, forcing her to clutch her stomach in attempts to keep the rising bile down, but she couldn't seem to, and so she fled from the door to Fitz's office and sought refuge in her bathroom, where she puked from anxiety and sorrow. Fitz knew she was gone when he heard the pitter-ing and patter-ing of her feet on the dark, wooden floors of their home, and exhaled gratefully at the realization.

He reached for the phone cordless phone that occupied the right corner of his desk and dialed the familiar pattern of digits.

"Cyrus Beene," Fitz's mentor and previous campaign manager answered. Cyrus was resting with an undone tie around his neck and feet kicked upon a creme colored ottoman; A habit that his wife, Janet, reprimanded him for doing. His dirty shoes tended to leave atrocious stains on the furniture that she had to scrub out. Cyrus accepted the glass of iced tea from the wife that he sort of loved and attempted to zero in on whatever Fitz needed. Though Cyrus had developed a bit of love for Fitz in a sort of father-son, brother-brother type way, he knew that Fitz was his way into the place that ran the entire country; The White House. Cyrus had already managed to get Fitz to the governor of California, but his term was nearing its end, and he was such a favorite among the people that Cyrus thought the next move was to push him into the upcoming presidential election. So Cyrus would oblige whatever Fitz needed; When Fitz won office, Cyrus figured he would earn the title 'Chief of Staff' for his hard work and allegiance to Fitz.

"My father raped Mellie," was how Fitz replied. Cyrus sat upright in his recliner and decided against a sip of his iced tea, since it had become evident that he wouldn't be able to predict anything else that Fitz would say. Fitz had now chosen to stare out of his window at the setting sun and its backdrop. He had to admit; It was beautiful. The sight made him wonder how many times he had neglected to marvel at such an exquisite view. It also made him wonder who else was gazing at the same sky.

"Your father what?" Though Cyrus was caught off guard, his tone remained placid and low with the same raspy timbre that it always held. Fitz took another sip of his whiskey, letting it sizzle down his esophagus. His eyes never left the sky that mirrored many a painting, its colors blended so swiftly and seamlessly.

"My father raped Mellie, and now some moral lacking reporter is going to leak photos to the press unless we pay him."

"I just needed to make sure that I heard you right," Cyrus confirmed. Despite the fact that he had just arrived home and settled in less than twenty minutes ago, Cyrus was again tying up his scarlet colored tie and grabbing his briefcase. The last thing Cy needed was a scandal in the media that did anything for Fitz but exalt him further than they already had. Photos of Big Jerry and Mellie engaging in sexual activity was going to put Fitz's name in the media, alright, but his name was not going to be associated with words like 'hero' and 'charming'. It would be with words like 'disgrace' and 'repulsive'. "I need you to make sure that you, Mellie, and Jerry stay inside your houses. I'm on my way."

Cyrus informed his wife that he wouldn't return until much later that night due to a crisis that had come up with Fitz. He dashed to his Corolla and listened absentmindedly to the news station that poured through the speakers of his car. Cyrus never changed the station from CNN news since he wanted not to miss the word of new policies or new world issues that arose. Because Fitz was California's governor, it was only fitting that he lived in the state's capital, Sacramento. Cy, however, took an affinity to Sutter, a city just outside of Sacramento, for it was much more reticent. It typically took him thirty-five minutes to commute from his home to Fitz's in suburban Sacramento at the allowed speed, but the circumstances had caused Cyrus to speed down the highway without regard for the speed limit, so he knew he would arrive much sooner than he expected. Cyrus deemed it necessary because not only was Fitz's future on the line, but so was his.

He reached Fitz's large, grey stoned home in twenty-five minutes. The stones and bricks that made up the Grant home were so light in tone that they could've easily been mistaken for white and the roof was a darker grey much like the shutters. The entrance of the home rounded out to create the effect of a castle-like tower. Two doors met each other there, made of stained and polished wood, to form a grand entrance that impressed many a visitor. Cyrus knocked emphatically, needing desperately to talk to the couple in person. He wasn't too worried about how loudly he had knocked, considering the Grants hadn't any children and he knew that both Mellie and Fitz had to be up.

Fitz answered the door somberly. He had quite the time attempting to drown himself in his beloved whiskey, but he was compelled to remain sober when he remembered Cyrus was coming. If there was anything Cy hated more than children, it was a drunk Fitzgerald. Cy wasn't surprised to learn that the home was eerily quiet, and understandably so. Mellie was nowhere in plain view, causing him to assume she'd retreated to her and Fitz's bedroom or any of the other private nooks in the house. Lord knows it had a superfluous number of rooms and an even greater number of doors. Trying to find that woman in a house where the only places he considered familiar were the living room, office, and kitchen would have been like trying to find an earring in a ball pit; It just wasn't happening. Instead of ransacking through the home in a frantic matter, Cyrus decided it best to ask Fitz to fetch her.

"Where's your wife?" He inquired, a skeptical brow raised in censure. Fitz raised his eyes from the floor and to Cyrus's aging face, already dreading the daunting task of searching for Mellie. He knew she hadn't left the home; He'd instructed her as much after he'd talked with Cy, but wherever else in the building she had chosen to abscond off to remained a mystery to Fitz, and frankly, he didn't care to solve it.

"Somewhere around here." His voice sounded deflated and low in Cyrus's ears, but Cy knew that if he allowed his greatest achievement to drink himself into a depression, the photos would be leaked, and then, they would never take the White House.

"Find her and bring her to the office," Cyrus ordered. Mellie had been listening to the pithy exchange between her dismal husband and Cyrus at the top of the stairs, behind the wall that lead down the right hallway. She had succeeded in ridding herself of that God-awful vomit aftertaste with a half-eaten NutriGrain bar and some of her hooch, a clear liquor that often whisked her away from what she told herself was a happy life with Fitz. Heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs belonging to her husband; She could tell by the sound of the way his feet came down, shuffled, and continued. Mellie didn't have much shame in her liquor. She had been forced to out her biggest and most horrid secret to Fitz, something she dreaded for the past year. Fitz now hated both Mellie and his father for the actions of only his father. Still, he blamed Mellie just as much.

He rounded the corner and found his wife broken and swallowing yet another glass of hooch. His eyes turned down at their corners in an instinctive frown. Governor Grant wanted to feel an ounce of pity for Mellie, but he didn't. Instead, he was overcome with emotions of loathing, vexation, and blame that he inflicted on Mellie with every breath he took.

"Get up. Cyrus is here, and he wants to talk to you." She retrieved the NutriGrain bar at her feet and grabbed her hooch, following Fitz down the stairs, both of the postures screaming out their gloominess. She trailed behind him all the way to his office, past nearly five doors that lead to various rooms. Cyrus sat in the leather couch that housed itself in the far right corner, across from Fitz's desk, his eyes closed in unmistakeable vexation. Mellie couldn't help but to attribute the mess to herself again. If only she'd been able to ward Big Jerry off with her words, he would've left her alone, or if only she'd gone to the gym like the other California wives, she might've been able to muscle him off of her.

It wasn't Mellie's fault, though. She reminded herself that as she sat on the couch, a good several inches away from Cyrus. Fitz, being the man he was, took his seat in his office chair and reclined back in it as he poured himself another glass of whiskey. Mellie shrugged and decided no one would judge her if she took a swig of her liquor too, so she did.

"Who is he?" Cy asked.

"Who is who?" Fitz rebuttal-ed.

"Who is the sleazy reporter who has the photos?" Mellie sighed and drew her feet up onto her couch with her, holding her knees, yet being sure not to expose her underwear in her dress. Fitz's face hadn't changed emotions since Cyrus had greeted him in his home, a mere five minutes ago. Not only was Fitz a typically jubilant man, but he was also rather animated. He had a habit of expressing his emotions grandly on his face when he wasn't dealing with his work. Taking both of those facts in mind, Cy knew Fitz had to have been absolutely pissed that night.

Everyone knew Fitz's father, Jerry Grant, considering that he had been a two time governor of California and multiple term senator of California. The masses loved him, and with Fitz growing up in his father's large shadow, the people came to love him too. It had undoubtedly played a hand in Fitz winning governor by such a landslide. But, as much of a family man Jerry was perceived to be, Fitz knew that his father had a thing for affairs and scandalous sex with women. Jerry had engaged in an extramarital affair with a prostitute named Hope when Fitz was growing up, and his secretary. He wasn't sure who the other women were, but he knew there were other women. It hadn't surprised Fitz to learn that his father had his way with Mellie, but no one could blame him for detesting his father even more after catching wind of what had happened.

So, Fitz reserved the right to be vile and aggravated.

"Ask Mellie," Fitz told him.

"He called the house on Wednesday, saying he had something really important to tell me. I typically ignored reporters, but when he said he knew about Jerry, I decided to meet him at a coffee shop downtown," she explained, "I tried to tell him that he should get rid of the photos, but he said he would only do it if we paid him in full."

"How much did he want?" Cy challenged.

"Ten-thousand dollars, cash." Instead of replying, Cyrus whizzed out his phone and punched in a few numbers, waiting impatiently as the device rang.

* * *

Olivia Pope was roughly two-thousand-and-seven-hundred miles away. She sat uncomfortably at a dinner table with her father, who poured her a deep, maroon glass of wine. Her nose took in the smell of it, reminding her oddly of communion juice with a splash of alcohol. She raised her eyes to her despicable dad and shook her head gingerly.

"I don't really like wine," she declared, wishing desperately that the night would end. It made Olivia's skin crawl to even be in the same room as her father, who she learned had been stealing bountiful amounts of money from the institution in which he worked. Eli, her father, was immensely nervous. It had taken nail and tooth to convince Olivia's stubborn mind to agree to the return of Sunday dinners after she'd uncovered what she thought was Eli's darkest secret. She knew little though, but he would let her believe that she had uncovered everything.

"That's because you've never had fine wine," Eli argued, sitting across from her at his dining table that could seat four. She grimaced and decided on humoring him, tipping the glass back and letting the rich flavor dominate her taste buds. Her eyes lit in delight as she paused to let out a response.

"It's good," she said simply. Her father chuckled and she took another blissful sip. In the midst of the moment, her phone rang, Cyrus's name flashing on the screen of her phone. Olivia stood and took her phone with her, looking at her father with false apologies. "I have to take this," she reasoned. She walked down the corner, where she thought she'd be out of Eli's earshot, which she was. "Olivia Pope," she answered.

"Olivia, it's Cyrus. I need you to do me a favor." Her free arm that didn't hold the jewel of a communication device crossed over her bosom and she chuckled lowly.

"Really? What is it?" Cy knew that he had many other means to help remedy the sick situation that was Mellie, Fitz, Jerry, and a tacky reporter, but he also knew Olivia was the best way to do it. He had helped mentor her himself, teaching her the ins and outs of the political world and how to pull strings that were just a little to high for her to reach; He taught her the things they don't teach in law school. Not only had he developed a high respect for Olivia, and she for him, but he had also formed a friendship with her. Cyrus knew that the past exchanges between them would lead her to help him.

"I need you to fix something for me. How fast can you get to California?"

"How fast do you need me in California?"

"Tomorrow, noon." Typically, Oliva would have been burdened and vexed with the thought of having to purchase a priority ticket to the first plane out of D.C. in the morning, but having to pack for a week and buy a plane ticket for the next morning at eight thirty that night gave her excuse enough to have to leave dinner with her father. She wasn't going to complain; Cyrus had just saved her from an awkward and forced conversation with Eli about shallow things that she longed not to talk about, or at least not with him anyway.

"You're lucky I like you," she bantered with a slight giggle, ending the call and returning to her father's dining room. "Dad, I'm so sorry. I just got a spur of the moment client who needs me in California by noon tomorrow. I've got to book a flight, p-" Mr. Pope knew that Olivia was relieved to have a sufficient enough reason to get out of dinner with him, and in a part of him deep down, he was hurt by that. Though he had been a pushy parent, he loved his daughter, and he could only hope that she would come around and forgive him for his wrongdoings soon. Until then, he yearned not to hold her against her will.

"I understand, Olivia," he sympathized, emphasizing each syllable of her name like only he could. She gathered her few belongings she had brought; Her purse, her phone, and her coat. Eli escorted her to the door where she got into a cab he had called for her minutes earlier when he assumed she'd be leaving. They waved each other goodbye, secretly grateful they would no longer be subjected to such an odd, uncomfortable evening.

In the Grant home, Fitz peered at Cyrus with skeptical eyes, wondering who he could have possibly called. All he had bothered to learn from listening to the conversation Cy had in front of both Fitz and Mellie was that the woman was named Olivia. Despite the fact that Fitz didn't even know who she was or how great of a job she did, he did know that he lacked confidence in the belief that whoever Olivia was would be able to fix the situation at hand.

"Who was that?" Mellie dared to ask. Cyrus let out a concentrated exhale and stood from his seat.

" _That_ was your SOS."

* * *

It was exceedingly early the next morning when Olivia rose to get herself dressed. The time on her alarm clock read five thirty, but she was convinced it was prior. Typically, Olivia wouldn't have gotten up until seven thirty to make it to work on time, and maybe eight if she felt like taking a cab instead of the metro. Still, she had called her firm the previous night to inform her boss she'd be gone for the coming week and packed her bags, only for her dear friend Cyrus, who she felt obligated to do a favor for.

She showered under steaming hot water, being sure to tuck her hair under a shower cap since she had pressed it out straight the night before, and lotioned her body with her favorite body cream and some baby oil. She then brushed her teeth and washed her face before applying an airy, fresh face of makeup that hid her tired state. After that, Olivia put on her clothes; A pair of grey, Calvin Klein slacks, a cream-colored blouse, a matching grey blazer, simple pearl earrings, a glistening pearl necklace, and pointed, cream-colored heels. Once she spritzed her elegant Dior perfume that went easy on the nostrils, brushed through her loose curls, and combed out her bangs, she snatched her purse from the couch where she'd left it last night, put on her coat, and wheeled her suitcase behind her as she locked the door.

It was still dark outside when she rode down the escalator to the metro, a few blocks down from her apartment building. She strutted through to the correct metro train for the airport with her head held impeccably high and her confidence exuding through her pores. When the metro stopped and a meager number of passengers exited, Olivia checked to make sure the train was going to the airport. When she confirmed it was the right train, she stepped on, wheeling her luggage behind her.

The rest of the way to the plane was a blur, but she made it on time to her first-class seat that she'd paid a pretty penny for. The flight was booked, and they'd had to move someone from their seat last night so that she could make it on. Tight air and a quiet, never-ending beeping noise greeted each passenger for the five and a half hour flight they'd embarked on, leaving Olivia with no choice but to close her eyes and pray that she could sleep the hours away.

* * *

Cyrus was already in his suit and sitting in the swooning living room of the Grant home with that same determined expression on his face when the clock struck noon. He was elated that Olivia had chosen to grant him his wish and handle the positively chaotic plight that threatened both his and Fitz's careers. His friend had called him twenty minutes earlier to inform him that she was on her way to the Grant home, and so he had summoned both Fitz and Mellie to prepare them for the political genius that was Olivia Pope.

"You wanted to know her name," Cyrus reminisced of the previous evening. "Her name is Olivia Pope. There's nothing that I've ever seen her not be able to handle, and I don't expect this to be an exception. She is smart; Don't challenge her. Do what she says," he finished, looking them both in the eyes with intensity. Olivia didn't shy away from things or handle anything with particular emotional care; He wanted to make sure they were ready for that. "If you don't like her, I don't care. Bond over how much you hate her in your footies at night, but I don't want to hear so much as a thing about her from your mouths that don't include the words 'brilliant', 'genius', or 'thankful'. Got it?"

Both Fitz and Mellie nodded numbly and stood, smoothing their clothes alongside Cyrus when they noticed a cab pull up to their driveway. Cy had given Olivia the code to get into the gated neighborhood much earlier, so she'd arrive without much trouble. Cyrus opened the door and walked down the paved sidewalk that led from the porch to the curb to meet his friend who was doing him an immense favor.

"Cyrus," she greeted with a genuine beam.

"Olivia!" They shared a warm hug as the cab driver retrieved Olivia's bags from the trunk. Cyrus tipped the tab for her; It was the least he could do. Then, the both of them walked up the path toward the Grant home, Mellie and Fitz smiling in the doorway.

Little did any of them know that while Mellie was assessing Olivia to get an idea of what she might be like in nature, Fitz was admiring the stunning smile that she had as she laughed with Cyrus. He was gawking over her high cheekbones and plump lips that he could have devoured on sight. He was in awe of her glossy hair that bounced with her as she strided with a few pieces pulled back behind her bangs to create a heavenly look. He was amazed at the way her dainty fingers held her coffee cup with their polished nails. He was entranced by the way she stepped with so much sureness about her, so much sureness that was sexy.

Little did any of them know that they were witnessing the moment that Fitzgerald Grant III fell in love with Olivia Pope.

When she and Cyrus reached the door, Olivia outstretched her hand toward Mellie, who took it, and shook it graciously.

"Mellie Grant," she introduced. Olivia nodded in recognition of her name and turned toward Fitz, pausing as she caught his gaze, but still shaking his hand. Her heart thumped a bit heavier in her chest when tingles shot up her arm as she shook the man's hand.

 _It's probably because of how cold I am from the car and how warm he is from the house_ , she told herself.

"You must be Governor Grant," she guessed with a pleasant smile.

"That's me," he confirmed.

"I'm Olivia Pope. Very nice to meet you both." Fitz spoke for both he and Mellie next.

"Very nice to meet you, Olivia."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Though it was Fitz and Mellie's humble abode, Cyrus lead his way through the vast suburban home, bearing a miniscule but genuine smile that Fitz hadn't seen in a very long time. The Sun peaked at its highest point in the sky during the noon hour, beaming confidently past the windows and into the traditionally decorated house. Fitz took the liberty of retrieving Olivia's bags from Cyrus, seeing as his mentor had started toward the office and the luggage was but extra weight at his side. Olivia looked his way with grateful eyes as the governor placed her two suitcases by the front coat room and soon walked beside her on the path to his office.

"Thank you for coming to help us," Fitz offered coolly, his baritone voice resonating with a buzz in his chest. He simpered indebtedly at Olivia who nodded back with a gracious grin and modesty. She made sure to raise her voice when she replied so as her previous mentor would hear the exchange between she and Fitz; For some reason unbeknownst to her, she felt if she spoke in the low, conversational tone Fitz used with her, it would be something wrong.

"Well I couldn't say no to Cyrus," she charmed, resulting in laughter from the four of them; Cyrus, Fitz, Olivia, and Mellie, who hadn't said a word since she'd introduced herself. Olivia's mind wondered to what sort of scandal Cyrus had called her in to fix. The chemistry between Governor Grant and his wife appeared immensely strained, and few photos of family cluttered the walls. The situation had to deal with the Grants' relationship. She knew because her gut told her so, and Olivia Pope's gut is rarely, if ever, wrong.

" _No one_ can say no to Cyrus," Fitzgerald joked, again causing an eruption of chuckles from his company. They then approached the office of California's governor, the third room down the hallway. The first thing Olivia noticed when she entered was the unsightly brown paint that made her feel confined. She wondered how anyone could work in such a space.

Fitz strolled to his office chair, lounging in it comfortably and with leisure as he eyed Olivia without her knowledge. Her grey blazer had managed to leave an enticing view of her posterior that he couldn't tear his gaze away from. He cursed beneath his breath when she sat, ending the session of admiration, but his thoughts soon lingered to her hair that tumbled over her shoulders with its loose curls. Fitz hadn't noticed he was staring at the professional-looking siren until she shifted uneasily on the couch, beside Cyrus.

"Go ahead," Cy encouraged, "Tell her what the problem is," he chuckled out. He turned his head toward his dear friend in dry amusement. "I'm sure she can handle it." Fitz drew his attention toward Mellie, at first expecting her to explain the dire circumstances for Olivia's visit, but his attitude soon melted into sympathy for the increasingly unaffectionate woman he called his wife. With a comforting glimpse in Mellie's direction, he soon took a deep breath and began the story telling.

"My father, Jerry Grant-"

"Fitzgerald Grant II," Olivia pointed out. Both Mellie and Fitz exchanged awed glances, much to Olivia and Cy's amusement. Cyrus, however, was the only one to chuckle. "I do my research," she chided politely.

"Yes, Fitzgerald Grant II," the governor confirmed, "raped my wife." There was a diminutive moment of anticipation when Fitz's stomach dropped from beneath him as he wondered, with shame, what Olivia Pope would think of his dog of a father. Little did he know that the news had all but shocked the blossoming attorney; Olivia Pope was a fixer, and she had seen much worse. Despite her finishing law school a mere year and a half ago, she already had quite the reputation around D.C. for her phenomenal work. Nearly every politician knew; If you had a situation, you go to Olivia Pope. Before the brilliant protege had begun her career, they called Cyrus Beene, but he had occupied himself with Fitzgerald Grant III and fascinated his mind with fantasies of the White House. "The press seems to have gotten pictures of it and they initially thought my father and Mellie were engaging in an affair, but Mellie made sure to tell them the incident was far from it when she met with the reporter two days ago. They want ten-thousand dollars or else they release the story."

Olivia wasn't a stranger to the uneasy, tense expression Fitz wore on his alluringly handsome face. It meant that her client had little faith in her ability to solve the issue at hand, to fix, to be a successful fixer. She crossed her left leg over her right, finding it a nuisance to keep still after all the coffee she'd drunk to ensure her alertness. Fitz tracked the movement, his eyes darting to her hands that sat clasped in her lap, checking for any sign of a ring. There was none.

"Jerry can't know about this," Mellie fretted.

"He doesn't have to," Olivia assured, sincere sympathy flooding from her eyes and warming the broken heart of her other client. It amazed Cyrus how quickly his friend was willing to start in on the case without a nap or another cup of coffee. He figured she'd already had a couple; She was awfully pleasant for being up since five that morning. Cy knew Olivia, and he knew Olivia was _not_ a morning person by any means. He also knew that she was even worse when she was tired. "Mellie, do you remember the magazine that reporter represented?" Melody's eyes fluttered to the ceiling, trying to think as acutely as she could to the company name that the reporter had left on she and Fitz's voicemail.

" _People_. He was with _People_ magazine," she informed, her lips settling into a deformed line that told her anxiety without her even saying a word. Mellie had drawn the concern of all three of her peers, yet Cyrus was practically reading the young lawyer's mind, and he worried first about her well-being. He felt compelled to stop her from going down to _People_ 's offices that very moment and finding the scummy reporter that had caused such chaos.

"Liv, how about we eat first and then we can start working." Nothing went unnoticed by Fitz. He observed the exasperated look on Olivia's face when Cyrus had delayed her from starting on the job, and he took a liking to the endearing nickname Cy had used. _Workaholic Liv_ , the politician joked to himself. _Well, at least I'm assuming she's a workaholic_ , he thought. Ms. Pope soon brought back her unreadable expression and a smile everyone was sure she'd forced out many a time prior to meeting their acquaintance. She wanted to make the Grant scandal go away as soon as possible, but she didn't want to be rude and decline Cyrus's informal invitation to lunch.

"Of course, Cyrus. I haven't been on the West Coast in several years. You'll have to remind me of the good places to eat," she said, her tone light-hearted and airy, like the color of a young girl's Easter Sunday dress. Cy chuckled briefly as they all stood, Fitz watching intently as Olivia wiped down the front of her pants for lint. The younger of the two men took the moment as a great opportunity to invite the unfamiliar lady to one of his favorite restaurants.

"There's this amazing spot downtown-"

"Oh yes, Ella's Dining Room," Mellie interjected, her face twisting up and her eyes closing in blissful remembrance of the establishment, "Their food is to _die_ for," she exaggerated. Olivia laughed and stooped down to grab her burgundy hued Birkin bag.

"I can't possibly say no to that," Olivia insisted. Fitz's infectious grin spread across his face as he lead the way to the garage with the rest of his lunch party trailing behind him.

"Great! I'll drive."

* * *

The four esteemed diners had enjoyed the delectable flavors of Ella's Dining Room, and Olivia had to admit that the rainbow trout, which had come highly recommended from Governor Grant, was perhaps the best fish she had ever tasted in her twenty-five years of life. They all sat in their chairs chatting leisurely, seemingly having forgotten the reason for Olivia's trip.

Joan, the long-haired, long-legged waitress who'd been serving them, approached with a welcoming beam.

"We had a small dessert bar set out for you, Mrs. Grant. Ella insisted you get some of her banana pudding. She says it's your favorite." Mellie's eyes lit up like an overachieving student who had been told she was valedictorian.

"Tell her I said thank you," she told her. The floors of the restaurant were wood, but stained an icy beige color, aligning perfectly with the tinge of the plush, tufted chairs. Large, cream lights hung down lengthy, skinny stems from overhead, providing casual yet intimate lighting that wasn't needed because of the daylight pouring through the windows. Sheer, champagne toned curtains clothed the glass-ed openings that let light in. Lucky enough for Fitz, Olivia had sat facing the window with Cy while he and Mellie sat across from them, allowing the sunlight to seep past the windows and onto Olivia's face, casting a luminous glow about her mocha skin that he could admire without anyone taking notice.

"Would you like to come see the desserts, Olivia? I promise they're even better than the entrées," Mellie encouraged. Olivia simpered politely.

"No, thank you. I'm already full." Her giggle afterwards only added to the respectfulness of her decline.

"Fitz?" Mellie asked.

"I think I'll pass."

"I'll go with you, Mel," Cyrus bantered.

Cyrus got up alongside Mellie and accompanied her to the dessert bar that the owner of the restaurant, Ella, had set out just for the Governor's wife. Mellie frequented the business, so all who worked there knew that the woman had a serious thing for sweets. With both Cy and Mellie gone, Fitz and Olivia were left to their own company, and again, Olivia got that feeling that though she and Governor Grant weren't doing anything wrong, they still _were_ doing something wrong by simply being alone together, even if but for three minutes.

She took a sip of her water.

"So you're from D.C.?" he inquired, wishing to make small talk.

"Yes. My father," she paused, shuddering at the thought of the man who helped create her. Again, nothing went unnoticed by Fitz. He wondered what the story was behind her and her father. The shudder had to have meant something. "My father always had a thing for D.C.. I suppose I get it from him," she explained. He beamed, making Olivia swoon inside over the attractive and suave mannerisms of him.

"Well every now and then I have meetings there. Next time I'm in town I'll have to stop by." Olivia debated on whether or not what he had said to her was purely just him being polite or if it was a bit forward. They'd just met precisely three hours ago, and he was already discussing stopping by to see her when he was in town? Was there something wrong with that? Or was it wrong because the tiniest sliver of her _wanted_ him to stop by and see her when he was in town? Who was she kidding? She hardly knew the man; She needed to stop overthinking.

"I wouldn't mind it," she teased, laughing with him. His eyes twinkled as he stopped his laughter and stared momentarily. There was a short period of silence when Olivia found herself staring too, and they both struggled to look away.

"Pardon me, but your smile is absolutely gorgeous." Heat rose to her cheeks as she brought her eyes down to her hands in her lap. Fitz found it hard to erase the smile he had at the sight. She was flustered.

"Thank you, Governor Grant." Before more could be said, Cyrus and Mellie had returned and the moment between Fitz and Olivia was up.

"I know you said you didn't want anything, but Ella put out some of the sweet potato pie, and you said it was your favorite." Liv grabbed her dessert spoon and gazed with a watering mouth at the slice of pie.

"Thank you, Mellie."

* * *

"I'm here for Mark Machado," Olivia requested, her sugar-sweet smile charming the male receptionist. He lifted his head from his concentration on the computer screen and to the beauty that stood before him.

"Of course," he ogled. Against his will, the man tore his gaze away from her and to the screen. "Name please?" Olivia leaned forward against the desk and brought her voice down to a seductive whisper.

"Olivia Pope. I don't have an appointment," she captivated, "I was wondering if you could," she stopped to give him a pouty expression, "put my name on his agenda." The boy was so hypnotized that it was a mystery no drool came out of his mouth.

"Right now?"

"Right now." He looked hesitant, but she reached her hand forward and brushed it against his. "Please?"

"Okay," he gawked, tapping into Mark Machado's schedule and typing in 'Olivia Pope' under 4:30. "H-He can see you now." There was that smile again.

"Thanks." Olivia never truly liked using her powers of femininity to get things going her way, and she rarely ever used them, but Cy had called her in on such short notice that she was stuck between a rock and a hard place. She had to choose one of them. She already knew Mark's floor from a glance over the receptionist's shoulder, so she pranced over to the elevator and pressed the button for floor eleven. When the doors closed, she was no longer the female stereotype, she was again a gladiator in a suit.

Mark was a skinny man with a crooked smile and glasses that took over his face. He wore khakis and red polo with loafers, and he worked in a very small cubicle among several other writers hoping for the next big story to fall into their laps. He had been thoroughly surprised to see Olivia, but still followed her to the café near the back of the floor. Mark admired her softly chiseled features and impeccable style.

"Very nice to see you, Mark," she greeted, flashing a set of teeth so perfect, she had to have had braces at some point in her life. She sipped the fourth cup of coffee for the day, a hazelnut latte this time.

"Likewise, Ms. Pope." Olivia had no clue that Mark had any idea who she was. He had done several unsuccessful stories on politicians she'd serviced, but the pieces never made it to the magazine. Mark had a thing for writing political pieces, but he was in the wrong place for it. _People_ liked gossip; Big, scandalous, juicy gossip. Mark had finally scored one with Mellie and Fitzgerald Grant II, and he would've been damned if he let it slip through his fingers. "I assume you're here to speak on Governor Grant and Mellie Grant's behalf."

"You assumed right." His ears loved the dance of flawless enunciation that Olivia had. She'd picked the habit up from her father. Mark watched attentively as Olivia fished through her purse for the ten-thousand dollars Fitz had cashed out in increments at the bank. She smacked the bills down onto the table and laid her hand atop it so that he couldn't grab it. "This is what you want? You want money?" She slid it in his direction, but as soon as he began to reach for it, she slid it right back. "Mark, I'm going to ask you again. Do you want money?"

"Yes," he hesitated.

"No you don't. You want a good story. You want acclaim. You want your name to be at the bottom of an article in a magazine. Boring story after boring story you keep submitting every month, only to get shot down. You think this will be any different? You think _you're_ any different than the writers they steal stories from everyday? You don't think they'll take your story, get a much more recognizable magazine writer to rewrite your article with the evidence _you_ collected without giving you so much as a citation at the end? If you think they won't you're even more delusional than I thought you were. I suggest you throw out the article, delete the photos, and try again next month." Mark's eyes narrowed in resentment.

"Or what?"

"Or this." She snagged a manilla envelope from her handbag and slid it over to him. It contained photos of Mark trespassing through the Grants' neighborhood, highlighted sections and evidence of his breach of contract with _People_ , and his real identity; Travis Simmons. He had went under the radar two years ago after he was unable to pay his taxes and faced a resulting trial. Travis changed his name to Mark, moved across the country, and started working for a new company to cover up who he really was in order to escape prison and having to pay off his taxes.

He scanned the contents of the folder with horror, quickly shutting it and throwing it onto the table as if it were too hot to even touch. Inside, Olivia smirked. _Checkmate_ , she thought. Outside though, she kept her poker face, and anticipated Mark's surrender.

She had her friend, Huck, do background research on the reporter that afternoon when she'd received the name from Cyrus. When Huck found everything that was useful, he faxed the files to her through Fitz's printer so that she could get to Mark as soon as possible.

"It wasn't my idea to publish the photos okay?" he cracked, nervously glancing around at disturbed onlookers. "I swear it wasn't mine," he reiterated, his voice conversational again. His shoulders hunched uncomfortably in fear. "They told me if I submitted it and got it published, they'd give me the money to pay off my taxes. It wasn't my idea, you have to believe me."

"Who's was it?"

"They-They told me not to tell," he stuttered. Olivia leaned in closer and peered at him with power and control in her hands.

"Mark, who was it?"

* * *

Mellie opened the door with prospect and angst in her heart. Olivia smiled at her graciously and headed toward the office where she figured Governor Grant and Cyrus were. She was right. When she rounded the corner into her office, both Fitz and Cy were poured over paperwork, their minds spent after dealing with hours upon hours of nonstop politics. The sight of Olivia's fresh face gave them hope, but what gave them even more hope was when she placed the wad of ten-thousand dollars in cash back on Fitz's desk.

Cyrus said nothing, but his countenance told Fitz, _I told you she was good_. And she was. She had kept the article from seeing the light of day, but the photos were a grievously different story.

"They won't publish it?" Mellie asked, inducing sympathy from them all. Olivia didn't know Jerry personally, but she did know that he enjoyed the company of multiple different women, some against their will. Everyone involved in politics knew; It was an unspoken bit of information.

"No, but it seems like we have some ulterior motive. I'll get my guy on it first thing tomorrow morning. I would have him on it now, but it's practically midnight back in D.C.," she reasoned, relaxing onto the same couch she sat in earlier in the day. Fitz found it strenuous not to laugh at the sight; She was tough, professional, and remarkably intelligent, but the way she sat on that couch told him that she was still human. That flash of regular-ness was what Fitz wanted desperately to see more of. She was only sitting down, though. He hardly knew her; He needed to stop overthinking.

"You're more than welcome to crash in our guest room," Mellie welcomed. "I know it's been a long day for you." Olivia couldn't help but to like Mrs. Grant. She seemed immensely sweet and genuine.

"As much as I would love to, I don't want to intrude on your personal space like that. I'm going to a hotel in a bit," she convinced.

"We can't let you stay in a hotel after all you're doing for us. Please, take the guest room." Olivia knew that if she didn't leave then, she would've gotten suckered into accepting the Grants' hospitality, so at nine that night, she grabbed her Birkin bag, called her cab, and hugged both Mellie and Cyrus goodnight. When her car arrived, Fitz walked her out to the cab with her bags, putting them in the trunk for her. "Are you sure you want to stay in a hotel? We have plenty of room," he persuaded in a last attempt. She laughed as he opened her door.

"No, thank you, Governor Grant." She ducked under and into the cab.

"No, thank _you_ , Olivia Pope." They found themselves staring again until a car zoomed past on the road and snapped them out of their trance. "Goodnight, Olivia."

"Goodnight, Governor Grant."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

When Fitz woke from his uneasy slumber, he noticed that his unaffectionate spouse was nowhere in sight. He thought little of it, however, and rolled over to look at the time on his petite alarm clock. _7:26 a.m._ , it read, operating the gears in his head, putting him into his 'politician' state of mind, and driving him to rise from his bed and toward his shower to begin what he knew would be a long day.

Olivia's hotel alarm clock buzzed in her ears, bringing her to sit up and press the button atop the device to terminate the piercing sound. Her body still hadn't become completely accustomed to the California time, but she shook off her nagging sleepiness and grabbed her towel and shower cap. Though Olivia knew she had already impressed Governor Grant and his wife Mellie, she didn't want to overshadow her previous day's immaculate work with being late. She huffed softly and got on with the start of her day.

When she had showered, done her hair, brushed her teeth, and washed her face among other things, she chose one of her chic, business-friendly outfits that she had packed and grabbed her handbag. Olivia retrieved her phone and was then on her way downstairs, where a cab, whom she had called in advance, was already waiting for her. She arrived at the Grant residence at nine fifteen sharp, tipping the cab and trodding up the now increasingly familiar stone pathway.

Fitzgerald Grant was peering through his front window nearly every five minutes so that he would be the first to the door when the ravishing Olivia Pope arrived. Luckily enough for him, he just so happened to take a glance out when he saw the beauty ducking out of the cab and up toward the door. It became evident to him that she was unaware of his admiring judging by the smug expression on her face and her eyes' brief perusal of the surrounding neighbors. He grinned minimally. Her face appeared refreshed and renewed; Ready for the new day, he assumed. Olivia's hair seemed to be styled slightly different as well; More of her hair was pulled back from the sides, guiding more attention to the flawless bone structure that was her face.

Before she could reach the porch, Fitz hurried off down the nearest hall so that Olivia wouldn't know he had been extolling her for those few moments in time. When the doorbell rang though, he was definitely the first there. He glanced through the peephole so that his anticipation of her arrival wouldn't be so apparent. She grinned amiably, and he opened the door, gesturing her inside.

"Good morning, Ms. Pope," he greeted. His voice was low and quite captivating. It was music to Olivia's ears each time he spoke, but she wouldn't let him know that. Last night she had already convinced herself that he had a thing for her, so she needed to be careful. Or, she theorized that, anyway.

What was rather ironic was her lack of knowledge that her theory was absolutely correct. Fitzgerald Grant III already had a thing for Olivia Pope.

Fitz wore a suit again, tailored to fit him like a glove, which was nothing less than expected as he _was_ the governor of California. His tie was a blue one, striped with thin lines of scarlet. He wore a sexy smile and his hair was again combed and laid to the side in his signature, suave waves. Olivia admired his look for the day, eyeing him swiftly before Governor Grant could notice.

"Good morning, Governor Grant," she returned. Once inside the home, the strong scent of cinnamon rolls and perhaps toast wafted beneath her nose, causing her to perk up. She had skipped breakfast that morning and opted only for a coffee to keep her running. Fitz combated the urge to chuckle at the hungry expression on her face and tapped her lower back once before tilting his head toward the kitchen.

"Mellie made breakfast. She thought you might be hungry," he explained, leading the way through his castle of a house to the kitchen.

Olivia's mind still replayed the sensation of Fitz's fingers at the small of her back. The interaction had been but short-lived, but it brought the most meager tingling sensation to her woman hood. She brushed it away, however, when her eyes met the sight of his wife, Mellie, beaming at her from her stance at the countertop. From the looks of it, she was icing over the cinnamon rolls, and it made Olivia's mouth water.

Fitz pulled the barstool out for his lawyer and went to the refrigerator.

"Good morning, Olivia! You've already been such a great help to us, and since I couldn't return some of the favor last night by getting you to stay here, I thought I'd make breakfast this morning! Please don't tell me you're allergic to cinnamon," she teased, laughing alongside both her husband and Olivia.

"I can assure you Mrs. Grant, I'm not allergic to cinnamon. Thank you very much," she offered, sincerely. Fitz turned his head over his shoulder and called out,

"Milk, orange juice, or cranberry juice?" Liv giggled to herself because the view of such a powerful man being so hospitable and, well, _nice_ had surprised her. She'd dealt with many men who were in similar positions of power as he, and they'd all been arrogant, selfish, and terribly rude. Fitz was not. She enjoyed that quality about him.

"Orange juice, please. But only a little; I've already got a cup of coffee," she requested graciously.

Governor Grant noticed the humility about Olivia and smirked to himself as he grabbed a glass from the corresponding cabinet. He had met many women like she who had done well for themselves and achieved great levels of success, and they had all been snooty, selfish, and terribly rude. Olivia was not.

"Orange juice it is," he said. The trio conversed casually like birds in the spring among towering, forest trees. Soon enough, their breakfast had been devoured, and Mellie had an appointment with the nail tech while Olivia and Fitz needed to get to their designated areas of work.

"Thank you so much for the meal, Mellie. It was wonderful. You said you made them from scratch?" Olivia inquired as they walked toward the hall that held both the office and garage doors.

"Yes," Mellie gushed pridefully, "it's something my grandmother taught me. It doesn't take too long once you get the hang of it. The real trick is just to make sure you don't put too much cinnamon in there or it'll ruin the entire thing." She and Olivia shared a quick laugh before they had reached the office.

"I'll call you if I get any information on who's behind this," Olivia told her, the mood turning urgent, and on Olivia's half, one might say sympathetic. Mellie smiled a small smile, similar to that of Fitz's and turned to leave.

"Thank you, Olivia." Soon she was gone, and Liv and Fitz headed into the imprisoning like office. She went to the same spot as the day prior, the couch to the right of Fitz's desk, and she pulled out her files along with some pens and highlighters. Fitz took his seat at his richly-hued desk and began to review some state bills that had made it to his review. All that could be heard was the scribble of pens and the squeaking of highlighters along with an occasional sigh.

Between immensely boring lines of a bill, Fitz's eyes wandered to Olivia, her head bowed in deep thought as she poured herself over her work. He could practically see the gears turning in her head; Fitz knew the feeling because he felt he had gears in his head that he turned on every morning. He was able to gawk over her full lips in all of their glory. He could enjoy her soft, yet striking jaw and her eyebrows that were knitted together just the tiniest bit as she focused. Her fingernails were what he assumed to be fake, but they looked good; They were a reasonable length, just rounded at the tips and painted a neutral taupe color. When his admiring went on for nearly four minutes, his eyes drew back down to the precisely _dreadful_ bill about beach littering.

As the records of Mark Machado's phone began to disinterest Olivia, her eyes then drifted up to Fitz's face. She studied the fine crinkles by the insides of his eyebrows that she had never noticed before. She fantasized about how velvety his wavy, brown and grey hair would feel beneath her fingertips and how his large palms would feel holding her face in a kiss. His nose was rounded softly at the tip and his eyebrows were a bit sparse, but his eyes were a vibrant, dark, brownish green. When her staring and fantasizing fared for too long, she forced her eyes to concentrate on the contacts of Mr. Machado.

They'd continued to steal glances every now and then, when their brains felt maxed out and no longer usable and every possible thought they had just evaporated into thin air. But, after Olivia's third glance and Fitz's fifth, she looked up again. It was just another glance, except this glance was at the same time.

Fitz eyes met Olivia's, and in that moment, it became clear to them both that they'd been been glancing at _each other_. Neither of them was alone in their attraction to the other. Olivia's heart was beating with increasing speed in her chest, picking up her breathing, as her gaze never faltered, and Fitz's was similarly unretiring.

There was a force sparking at the tips of the fingertips, at the tops of their heads, at the bottoms of their feet. It was trying its hardest to draw them together, close as they should have been, but the both of them were too stubborn to give in for fear that the other would reject them. Oh, their attraction was futile like magnets, making two strangers bonded as one unit that they couldn't seem to understand. Was it God? Was it fate? Was it love? Maybe all three? It was a mystery to them, but what they could conclude was that the feeling to be near the other would never go away.

"Olivia," he spoke.

 _That voice_. Liv didn't think it was possible for a man's voice to be so smooth and yet dance its way through the air, like smooth jazz. But, Fitz's was, and it took everything in the independent Olivia Pope to not spread her legs to the sound of it.

"Yes," she gasped, her breathing still rapid. She eyed him as he stood and sauntered to her lethargically with that enticing walk of his. His lips were painted into a snide simper as he saw what he was doing to Olivia.

"Do you feel what I feel? Right now?" She looked down at the carpet and considered her options. If she said yes, then there was a great possibility that she would end up playing a role in an act of infidelity and that she would feel remorse for the next month. If she said no, she'd turn Governor Grant away and give him the impression that she didn't feel a natural chemistry with him, which she knew would be lying. If she didn't answer, it wasn't unfeasible that with the space he had put between himself and Olivia, he would kiss her, and who knew what would happen after that? She didn't want to ignite cheating, but she didn't want to lie and ruin an obvious allure. Olivia decided she would take her chances with being silent.

Fitz found her silence to be a confirmation that she did feel what he felt. He actually thought her bashfulness to be rather adorable, and he brushed his fingers beneath her chin endearingly.

He took the plunge.

His lips latched onto hers, and though she felt hesitant at first, Olivia soon gave in and kissed back, finally experiencing what it felt like to have his strands of silky hair beneath her fingers. Fitz had been knelt down to put his face on the same level as Olivia's but when things got heated and she poked her tongue into his mouth, he rested his hands beneath her bottom and raised her up as she swung her legs around his torso. Not once did they release for air. Their lips fit into the crevices of each other's perfectly and their tongues twisted in blissful harmony.

Then Olivia came to her senses. _This is wrong_ , she said to herself. Reluctantly, she pulled away.

"You have a wife. I barely know you." Her statements were terse, but blunt. Fitz knew these things, yet he didn't believe that him meeting Olivia was purely a coincidence. Never in his existence had he felt a gravitational pull to anyone like he felt to Olivia, and that meant something. Fitz knew that Olivia coming to California to fix that scandal was fate.

"A wife that I don't love." She jumped out of his arms and adjusted her blouse.

"It won't happen again." With that, Liv strutted out of the office and to the bathroom, trying to make sense of the irrational feelings she was developing for a man that she _didn't even know_.

* * *

The sun had begun to set on the California horizon when Olivia hoisted her head triumphantly, capturing the attention of Fitz. He smiled at the accomplished expression on her face and anticipated whatever good news she had.

"I found him."

"You found who?" he questioned, trying his best to seem nonchalant as he put down his pen and set aside his papers.

"I found the man who _told_ Mark that he would find a story that night, at that exact time." Fitz's suspense grew with each passing moment. Who knew about that repulsive violation of Mellie's body? And if someone knew it was going to happen, then that meant his father had planned the assault in advance.

"Who is he?"

"I'm sure you know who Andrew Nichols is." It was as if a something clicked in Fitz's brain. Andrew always believed that he was the one who truly deserved to be governor, and that Fitz had only won because of his father's political background. When Andrew didn't win governor, Fitz thought it best to make Andrew lieutenant governor, and that was when he had begun sleeping with Mellie. Whether they had stopped the extramarital affair, Fitz had no idea, but he knew that their sexual relationship inevitably had something to do with it.

"I do. He told Mark?"

"Yes," she confirmed, grabbing the files in her lap and bringing them along with her to Fitz's desk. He scanned her fingers for a ring, since he had a closer look this time, and found her fingers to be bare. The next question was whether or not she was in a relationship; Fitz hoped not. She pointed to some highlighted lines in Mark's phone bill. "Andrew called Mark from this number on the night before your father raped Mellie. I had the call traced and it went back to Andrew's assistant's phone. Here," she slid another paper from beneath the top one, "is the conversation that took place between Andrew and Mark on the phone," she finished, giving Fitz some time to overlook the exchange.

"How did you get this?"

"I have ways," she replied, putting the remainder of her papers into a folder and placing them inside the same Birkin bag. "You have two options, Governor Grant. One; You say nothing and let it ride out. Two; You dig up Andrew's motivation and wager him something to keep him quiet, because believe me since this plan fell through, he'll try something else. You pick." Fitz exhaled, stressed, and Liv's kind, brown eyes tumbled upon him with longing to soothe him. She wouldn't do that, though. The kiss was bad enough, and she'd already feared facing Mellie at some other point in the day. Her bottom lip quivered as she awaited his response.

"I know why he did it. Just make sure he doesn't do it again," Fitz demanded through gritted teeth. Olivia stopped in her tracks at his easy words. Her countenance switched to that of vexation with eyebrows drawn together and a slightly poked out bottom lip.

"Why did he do it?" Her tone was flat and unemotional, nearly monotonal, and despite it being such a miniscule detail, Fitz noticed, and it troubled him tremendously. Had he been the reason for that crinkle of her brow, for that desolate tone? He swallowed and tried to avoid Olivia's face as he admitted something that no with pride man ever cares to admit.

"Well to start with, he's always been jealous of me." Liv saw nothing out of the ordinary about that; Humans were power hungry creatures. It was only natural of Andrew to hunger for Fitz's spot. "And… He's sleeping with my wife."

That news however, threw Olivia off guard. Mellie had seemed like such a pleasant, proper woman who was living the American dream. Not to mention she was the epitome of an American doll wife who, from what Olivia could gather, was always at Fitz's beck and call. The couple had always come off as unusually unaffectionate to her, but she thought nothing of it; News of your father raping your wife could devastate a marriage in such a way, but never did she think that it was because of harmless little Mellie having an affair. If she was being entirely honest, Olivia would've put the bet on Fitz to be cheating since he'd actually tried to initiate something between them, but she also knew that what she and Fitz felt between each other was far more than a mere affair or infatuation.

She didn't know how, but she felt it in her gut. Olivia Pope's gut is rarely, if ever, wrong.

"How long have you known?" Liv's heart went out to Fitz then as she recalled how he told her that he didn't love his wife. Perhaps the reason why was because his wife stopped loving him first, or maybe even vice versa. Whatever the reason, it was apparent that he had loved her at some point because the pain sparking in his eyes was undeniable. His lips drooped into an emotion provoking frown and his voice lost its buttery tone and faded to a scratchy, unsure one.

"About a year. I didn't say anything because I really didn't care. If she wants to screw around, let her, but now she's messing with my career, and I'll be damned if she ruins everything I've tried to build for myself," he ranted, tears falling silently out of the dull, wilting corners of his eyes. The situation had gone from tense to awkward, leaving Olivia without choice but to grab the remainder of her things and head toward the door.

"I'm going to give you a moment," she acknowledged quietly, but her entire body's function stopped when he spoke her name desperately, with anguish lacing the edge of his syllables.

"Olivia." Against her better, rational judgement, she turned around and smiled sheepishly, attempting to be supportive, but failing miserably. "Stay." Her heart took over her as she walked toward him and caressed her hand over his tear-stained face. Fitzgerald Grant III rested his head against Olivia Pope's bosom, crying into her chest as she ran her fingers through his full head of hair and rubbed the back of his head. She knew not if she was doing a good job at comforting him; She'd rarely done it.

Yet Fitz found utter solace in her embrace and as odd as it sounds, he found love in each of her fingertips, exuding into his dismal body and awakening the depths of his soul.

"It's okay," she whispered to him, and because she spoke it, so it was for Fitz. It truly was okay.

* * *

It was roughly eleven o'clock that night. Olivia had gone home hours ago, Cyrus had called around the same time, and Fitz and Mellie had shared a dinner with strain so thick, it was nearly tangible. They were laying in the bed now, moonlight seeping through their curtains and illuminating their faces enough to where they could see each other.

Fitz had begun to resent Mellie for all the problems she had caused. At first he merely found himself annoyed by her, but over the years, she had become the most hated person in his life- well second to his father, of course. At first he was wary of discussing what he had learned from Olivia with Mellie, seeing as he begged her not to tell his wife, but he knew that he was only going to be able to sleep well if he knew. He cared not whether the answer was yes or no, he just needed to be aware.

"Mellie?" She sighed, clearly agitated.

"Yes, Fitz?"

"Are you still sleeping with Andrew?" Mellie was appalled. She never was aware that Fitz knew of her and Andrew's affair. She thought she had crossed every 't' and dotted every 'i' to ensure that her husband never found out about her other lover, but she was fruitless in her attempts. Her mind toyed with the idea of denying the allegation, however, she knew that it would be idle. He was already knowledgeable, so she might as well have saved them from another argument and came clean about it.

"Not anymore. We stopped about a month ago." To her dismay, Fitz all but cried. He chuckled and rolled onto his side.

"Good to know."

"Do you hate me now?" Though her marriage had been slipping through the cracks for quite some time at that moment, she still had love for Fitz and wanted to maintain a good relationship with him for his career. After all, he was considering running for President, and there was no possible way he could do that as a single man and still win the Republican vote. Mellie at least wanted to keep nice with her husband.

Still, what he says next quiets them both, and neither of them ever forget.

"Not anymore than I already do, dear."

* * *

 _ **Hello! This is my first note on this book! I just wanted to thank you all for your positive reviews, support, messages, and constructive criticism! It is greatly appreciated and is not going unnoticed! I also wanted to apologize for waiting so long to get this up! I got busy with school and was unable to write anything. Thank you all so much for reading and supporting this story! Have a great New Year!**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Andrew Nichols had a harsh, aged face that was tattered with many fine lines of what one may have called 'season'. Olivia knew that the lieutenant governor was in the same proximity of age as Governor Grant, but she had concluded that Andrew Nichols appeared much older in the face, and he was not nearly as attractive and captivating as Fitzgerald Grant. Andrew's office was downtown at the State House, toward the back of the building in a corner where few people lingered. Most of the traffic of visitors remained in the front area of the facility. Despite the man's office being like any other work space, it was rather bleak and unwelcoming there with its all but sophisticated burlap curtains blocking the light in the waiting area. Only two chairs sat outside the office, telling Olivia that few people came to see Lieutenant Governor Nichols, who was hard at work behind the thick, glossed, wooden door.

Liv was aware that she had no appointment and that she had never called in advance, but Liv rarely ever called in advance; Surprise visits were more her style. She had told the receptionist at the front desk of the State House that she had come to see Nichols, and as she'd predicted, he had no one in his company, so the receptionist said she call him to inform him of his unexpected guest. When she instructed Olivia to go back, Liv smiled graciously and navigated her way to the detaining space that was Andrew's office and knocked politely on the door.

"Come in," he told her, his voice lacking luster and overall charisma. Olivia Pope entered with an immensely cautious state of mind. Her game face was drawn and her emotions were put to the side. Negotiating at its finest was about to be underway.

"Hello, Lieutenant Governor," she greeted with a civil grin. He nodded in response and gestured for her to sit.

As Olivia surveyed the desk, she noticed the utter clutter of his office. Papers were scattered in disarray on his desk, books were laid in stacks on the floor, boxes of files were overcoming the bench beside his window, and pens and highlighters were in every possible place. The display made it no mystery why he was lieutenant governor and Fitz was simply governor.

"Hello, Ms.?" He ended his sentence with skepticism, seemingly asking her name.

"Olivia Pope," she apprised. With a feather-light drop, she sat her handbag on the floor and soon clasped her hands in her lap. Andrew watched her with attentive eyes, and admired her classiness and stylish business wear. _Whoever this Olivia Pope is_ , he thought, _she isn't joking around_.

"Nice to make your acquaintance, Ms. Pope."

"Likewise, Mr. Nichols." Andrew seemed awfully breezy and carefree under Olivia's observations, and she laughed silently to herself. He had no idea what he was walking himself into.

"If you don't mind my asking, what brings you here, Ms. Pope?" Liv tilted her head a bit with raised brows as if to say, 'fair enough'. She crossed her right leg beneath her left at the ankle, being sure not to reveal much of her legs in her appropriately lengthed pencil skirt.

"I'm here on behalf of the Grant family," she explained, much to Andrew's bewilderment. Since when did Mellie not talk to him about things of this matter? He had come to terms with the end of their affair, but he knew she still felt something for him. He knew she still wanted to protect him, or so he thought, anyways. So since when did Mellie and Fitz send attorneys to talk to him and not do it themselves?

What was peculiar enough, however, was that the idea of Mark Machado never even crossed his mind.

"Wha- Why would they do that?"

"Well, Mr. Nichols, you were aware of a planned sexual assault against Mrs. Grant. You then continued to share that information with reporter Mark Machado of _People_ magazine. This, as you could imagine, is rather concerning to the Grant family."

Andrew nearly threw up. His mind raced as it soon realized that accomplice in a sexual assault could very well land him in jail. Should that ghastly situation take place, Andrew was aware that his political career would be terminated with no chance of resurrection.

"Look, all I did was tell the reporter a date and time. I didn't know Mellie was going to-"

"Then what did you think the significance of the date and time to be?" She drew her eyes together in scrutiny, and it made Andrew even more nervous.

"All I know is, Fitz's dad, Jerry told me that if I wanted to be governor, all I had to do was give the date, time, and address to a reporter. That's all I know!" Olivia did not buy his pitiful 'I don't know' excuse, and she was not going to settle for it either.

"I require one thing, Mr. Nichols; Honesty. I'm going to ask you, straight forward. Did you or did you not know that Fitzgerald Grant II was going to rape Mellie Grant, and knowing this, did you or did you not give Mark Machado the details so that he could then photograph this incident?" There was a long, tense pause. "Answer my question, Andrew."

"Yes, I did." Olivia's expression remained unchanged, almost stoic even.

"The Grants would like to offer you a deal; Governor Grant has bartered that in exchange for he and his family's silence in this ordeal, you will step down as Lieutenant Governor of the state of California and you will no longer pursue any contact, whether business or personal, with Melody Grant. Take it, and this all goes away," she halted briefly and shrugged with minimum force, "It's entirely your choice, Mr. Nichols."

* * *

Fitz was utterly tired. Dark, violet hued circles had formed beneath his once bright eyes and revealed the truest depths of his despondency. Never in his years had he felt so betrayed, and ironically enough, he found himself asking why. Mellie was no surprise to him; He'd figured out her cheating antics much earlier, and plus their union was for optics, anyway. Perhaps at one point he and Mellie had loved each other, but the period was brief and left no remnants of the emotion with it. Their relationship could most closely be described as indifferent, making it much easier for Fitz to digest Mellie's acts.

Andrew he knew not, or not very well at least, so again; No shocker there.

But his father, Jerry, had possibly committed the most vast treason in the series of people involved with the threat of Fitz's demise. It was no secret that Fitz and his father did not share the best of relationships, and that his father viewed him as an insurmountable letdown of a man. However, Fitz never believed his father to be the type to try and hurt his career. _Does Jerry hate me that much?_ , he often wondered. Why, of all the people out to take down the Governor of California, was the governor's father the most involved in the pursuits to destroy him? Fitz would never know, and he didn't care to. He would have much rather drank his life away in his office with the blinds closed, sulking, and complaining in hushed mutters about how he would 'never make it to the White House now'.

Quite contradictory, Cyrus cared far too much for that man's golden career to slip through the crevices of his fingers and fall into a puddle of broken dreams at the bottom of an abysmal chasm. He had pulled too many strings, torn too many kind people down, ruined too many lives, and called in one Olivia Pope too many for Fitz to give up under such circumstances. Cy bombarded into the man's office purposefully, and snatched away the pricey bottle of liquor.

"I was having a drink," Fitz said, vexed to say the least.

"You've had enough of those," Cyrus countered, his tone slightly amused as he viewed the work he would have to do before Fitz's next appearance at the State House. "Take a shower, by the way," Cyrus added after the fact, his nose crinkling in disgust as he got a whiff of the governor. "Olivia will be over tomorrow to help draft a speech for you, since you have to acknowledge Andrew's resignation. She and I will have a list of potential Lieutenant Governors for you tomorrow, as well. Pick wisely, sir, as who you choose can reflect on how great of a president you'll be. They don't know you're going to run yet, of course, but everything you do now, you need to think 'Presidency'. An-y-thing," he broke up the word for emphasis, "you do can and will be rehashed in the course of the election, and we don't need any bad calls against us. Fitz, are you listening?" Cyrus had begun to ramble a bit, and was slowly losing Fitz's attention. Cy, however, knew Fitz like he was his own son, and he caught him before he had lost him for good.

"Cy," his voice was still silky and low, soothing really, but Cyrus was not wooed by his persuasive techniques. After all, the man had taught Fitz everything he knew about persuasion, public speaking, and charm. "I don't want to do this right now," he finished, swallowing the last swig of whiskey left in his glass cup. Cyrus was rather displeased to hear such news; He didn't want to do it right now? Cyrus was fighting tooth and nail to make the man a President and Fitz ' _didn't want to do it right now_ '? Cyrus left everything his life in DC offered to mentor and manage the man and Fitz ' _didn't want to do it right now_ '? Olivia Pope was out somewhere in California gladiating for that man's career and Fitz ' _didn't want do it right now_ '?

Cyrus was having none of that.

"Listen here, Governor Grant. There are too many people out here busting their behinds for your precious career, that you seem to care nothing about anymore by the way, to pack up and go home because you don't want to do this right now. So your wife cheated on you? Your father raped her? Well if it hurts your feelings that much, then I suggest you clean up, put on your nicest suit and tie and march yourself down there to that State House with _your_ resignation letter, because any man that can't fulfill his duties to his state because of emotional problems doesn't deserve this position. You have no idea how much your administration and management has given up to make sure everything in your job goes smooth like butter on toast, and you can't appreciate it because you're too busy telling yourself that you don't belong here, but somewhere deep down, I know you feel like you _do_ belong here, in this office, in this position, with this stature, just because your dad said you didn't, and you want to prove daddy wrong. I will tell you this one thing, Fitz; I'm not here to prove daddy wrong, and neither is Olivia, or Lauren, or Kyle, or anyone else working under and for you right now at this very moment, so if you are here to prove daddy wrong, then you resign. If not, then stop acting like you're my sister-in-law's five year old daughter and suck it up. You don't want to do this right now? Well neither does anyone else, and if you can't handle doing things you don't want to do, then stop wasting my time so I can make another man a president and not you."

Cy's voice had remained steady and serene, though he talked with incredible speed that he only used when thoroughly irritated. Fitz's attitude was gone in that moment. Everything his mentor had said was right; Every syllable, and he couldn't argue that it was not. Still, Fitz wanted one thing, and that was the presidency. See, if Fitz became President, then it would prove everything his father thought about him wrong, and maybe even make him better than his father. That way, Jerry could never again look upon his son with such scorn in his eyes, and Fitz would never again feel like a child in his father's presence.

Sure, his motivations for the White House were entirely wrong, but these motivations weren't forthright in his mind; They lingered somewhere in his sub-conscience. Thus his terrible reasons for wanting to run the United States wouldn't stop him from becoming President. No, Cyrus's speech had only piped Fitz up more to become what everyone thought he would never be; President of the United States of America.

"Get Olivia on the phone, or over here if she can be," he demanded, standing with leader-like posture and speaking with much more bass, "we need to choose the Lieutenant Governor tonight. Tell Andrew to write his resignation letter tonight, and call the news stations; He's stepping down tomorrow. Oh, and call Hugo Boss; I need a new suit for tomorrow when I give the honoring speech for Nichols." Cy could not fight the grin spreading across his face; Fitz Grant was gone and Governor Fitzgerald Grant III had taken his place with full force.

* * *

Olivia was at the Grant residence in nearly forty-five minutes, which was arguably miraculous, since everything was so drawn out across the many miles of land in California. Cyrus had beckoned Liv over a phone call immediately after Fitz's sudden realization of self, and he then phoned Andrew's secure line, informing him that Nichols needed to prepare his resignation later that night, as he would be announcing such at a press conference the following day. Everyone in the home besides Mellie was diligently at work for the coming days, as it was common knowledge that when Andrew resigned, things would go haywire for several days before they settled down.

Liv was calling different news stations and venues, preparing for the speeches, Cyrus was researching exceptional lieutenant governor candidates, and Fitz was scratching his pen to paper drafting his speech. The time was roughly nine thirty and though tiresome had best described the bunch of three, sleep could not break down the barrier of gumption each of them had built. In nearly ten minutes, Olivia had secured several news stations, prepared to film the following afternoon on the steps of the State House. With an accomplished exhale, she retired to her spot on the loveseat and closed her eyes for a few moments. Fitz's eyes wandered to her exhausted frame where she sat, cautious of Cy's protective glances that he casted at Fitz every few moments to ensure he remained on task.

Though he tried to maintain a focused expression, the sight of Olivia instinctively caused him to grin in the slightest. And when a few moments passed and her eyes hadn't opened, he cleared his throat, as to seem if he had just noticed her public display of fatigue.

"Mellie?" he called gingerly, upholding their loving display, but still knowing (just like she did) that they were not on good terms by any means. She peered around the corner from where he assumed was her painting room, based on her attire. Mellie's smile appeared all but natural, with the robotic turning up of her cheeks among other things. Fitz gestured toward Olivia, who was secretly beginning to doze off, with a tip of his head. "Would you mind grabbing Olivia a blanket?" Her nod was urgent.

"Of course, dear." Though Liv heard the terse exchange, her mind was rocking in the maternal arms of slumber, so she hardly registered what was being said. The further she slipped into unconsciousness, her mouth opened marginally, reflecting her prostration, and her nose crinkled every few seconds, making her look much like a child. Fitz's admiration, _un_ like Olivia's alertness, was _un_ retiring, as it hovered over the young lawyer. As much as it killed him, however, Fitz returned to the draft of his speech to avoid any suspicions of his crush on Olivia Pope. Mellie was back soon, holding a grey fur throw, and draped the blanket over Liv, which, coincidentally, woke the woman up.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she offered with a groggy voice, batting her eyes to help them readjust to the light in the room despite the latter being dim. "You didn't have to-"

"No, no," Mellie reassured, "We know this day has been long for you, and you have got to be tired. The least we can do is offer you a blanket." Afterward, the hostess remembered something else. "You know, you're more than welcome to take the guest room. If you like, I've got some spare pajamas that you can sleep in and we can just call you a cab in the morning." Olivia beamed, grateful, but still shook her head.

"I couldn't accept that. You've already been so hospitable with breakfast and I definitely do not want to impose." Fitz then piped up, attempting to encourage her to stay.

"It _is_ pretty late, Olivia. You aren't causing us any trouble to stay," he told her with a brief chuckle at the end of his sentence. "In fact, it's the least we can do after all you're doing for us." Olivia was becoming close to giving in after the insistence of the couple that she stay. Her lids were increasingly heavy and the mere thought of the ride back to her hotel made her want to sigh deeply. Needless to say, Mellie and Fitz's words were getting through to her.

"I'm not sure whether to be offended that I've never been asked to stay when I'm working late," Cyrus joked, brightening the mood and lifting everyone's burdensome fatigue for a few moments.

"Oh, don't lie, Cy," Mellie reprimanded light-heartedly, "You've stayed a few times."

"Eh, not enough," he fired back with laughter. "But, speaking of which, I should be on my way. I've got the list of candidates down and important info on each of them, so my task has been completed. It seems I will see you hooligans tomorrow," Cyrus bantered, causing some chuckles.

"I'll walk you to the door," Mellie said, "Fitz, will you show Olivia to the guest room? I'll be up in just a moment to grab those spare pajamas." Reluctantly yet appreciatively, Liv stood and reached for her bag at her feet, but she was nowhere near fast enough for Fitz. He had already retrieved the purse and had begun to grab her other belongings for her. The view was enticing, really, the governor crouched so low with his waves a bit messy from the day's tasks. Without his suit jacket, his muscles peeked subtly beneath his white oxford, teasing Liv's eyes. When Fitz had seized everything, he motioned his head out of the room.

"Follow me," he beckoned, his tone soft, smooth, but still scratchy; It reminded Olivia of crushed velvet at the late hour. They went up the winding staircase and turned down the right hall, Fitz turning on the lights ahead of them. The walls were a neutral cream color, while the doors were a stark white in contrast. A sophisticated curve added character to the silver door handles and portraits of abstract art provided interest on the walls as well. Fitz stopped at the third door down on the right and pushed it open, allowing Olivia to enter first.

It was apparent that the Grants had spared no expense in the decor of the guest room. Chocolate-y dark wood floors sat beneath their feet, complementing the grey paint of the walls. A mirrored nightstand, with a pattern of criss-cross on its front, accompanied either sides of the bed, which was quite posh looking with its soft brown, tufted headboard. An abstract grey and brown rug beneath the bed and the white tufted chairs at the foot of the bed revealed Mellie's fascination with abstract art. Three sets of white, windowed doors were clothed in easy brown hued drapes, that were elegantly pulled back to reveal the silky night. The brown chandelier above the bed completed the experience, lighting the room.

"Very nice," Olivia commented, stepping toward the bed and sitting on it.

"The bathroom is across the hall, and there's towels in the linen closet behind the bathroom door. Spare toiletries are in the medicine cabinet…" He paused a moment to think of anything else. "Call for me if you need any extra blankets; Mellie and I like to blast the AC. Oh, speaking of Mellie, she should be up in a second with the pajamas. Let us know if you need anything else." The twinge of gratefulness in Liv's eyes told Fitz all he needed to know, but he would definitely enjoy and excuse to hear her voice.

"Thank you so much," she replied with a beam. Just then, Mellie came in with silk pajamas and a robe in her hands.

"No, thank you, Olivia," she interjected, handing her the clothing.

"Goodnight, Grants," Liv giggled.

"Goodnight," they responded in unison.

* * *

"Olivia." A reticent voice tickled Liv's ears. "Olivia, wake up. I need your help." Fitz had snuck into his lawyer's room at nearly two in the morning, the moon shining without shame into the guest room and illuminating the brown skin of Olivia's face. He waited patiently as she sat and rubbed her eyes free of sleep.

"With what?" Her heart was palpitating in fear of romantic involvement. She knew not the hour, but she was aware that it was late, and she was also aware that nothing was open at two in the morning but legs, and she prayed hers wouldn't be a pair that were.

"I finished the speech and it's missing something," he whispered. "Can you read it?" Liv reached over and turned on the light that rested atop the nightstand.

"Of course, Governor Grant." Fitz stroked his fingers beneath the beauty's chin and raised her head to his eye level, forcing eye contact. Olivia liked it though. In the moment, his eyes were then a grey-blue, much different than the grey-brown from earlier. _His eyes change color_ , she noted. Fitz noticed, however, that Olivia's eyes were still rich, hazel, and remarkably doe-eyed. They were sure to melt the man into a puddle sometime soon.

"Call me Fitz."

"That would be inappropriate," she countered, smiling bashfully.

"Let's be inappropriate, then."

* * *

 _ **Thank you all so much for the reviews, favorites, and follows! They are greatly appreciated. I am working to update roughly once a month so that I still have time to focus on school. Please let me know if you think that's not often enough! I want to make your reading experience as enjoyable as possible! :) Feel free to leave a review! They are much appreciated. Also, be sure to favorite and follow if you have not already. If you enjoy this, please share with your friends and on your social media! Love you all! Thank you for reading! :)**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

The night crept along lazily without much hurry after Olivia and Fitz's concise exchange over the sentiments in the speech he would be giving on the coming day. Much to the Governor's dismay, Liv had gracefully and politely declined his friendly offer of his nickname, though she found it all but easy to resist. She was nearly reliving the seven and a half minutes in her dream, as she tossed and turned atop the memory foam mattress. His low baritone surged through her ears even in his absence, whisking her away into some twisted yet celestial fantasy where she and Fitzgerald Grant kissed unashamedly and touched endearingly. Olivia's reality was restored, however, when she rolled over at nearly five o'clock in the morning and decided to call a cab. Her fingers grazed over the comforter and made up the bed with ease before she grabbed her belongings and crept wordlessly down the stairs, shutting the front door to the residence behind her.

Fitz observed her placidly as she left through the grand foyer. If he was being honest with himself, he hadn't slept at all since he'd finished his speech, and the whisper of Olivia's bare feet on the hardwood steps had invited him away from the California King Bed he ironically shared with his wife Mellie, in California. He oddly felt as if he had experienced a backward version of a one night stand, or something like it. The man couldn't seem to decide whether or not he felt betrayed that Olivia had left without a goodbye, or if he had intimidated her with his intimate invitation, meaning it was his fault that she'd rushed away in the manner that she did. Oh, there was no doubt that Fitz stood looking out of his window at the halcyon night for fifteen minutes, thinking of better ways he could have approached his lawyer. When it had been long enough, Mellie rubbed her sleepy eyes and raised an inquisitive brow.

"Fitz? What's the matter?" Fitzgerald was well aware that he would've been not only an asshole of a husband, but also a simply rude human being to release the sigh at her inquiry that he wanted terribly bad to exhale out, so he kept it inside.

"Nothing, just couldn't sleep," he lied, accepting that the cab Liv had slid into was far gone. Fitz unequivocally needed to get to bed; The last thing he or Cy needed was the media talking about how tired he looked again.

* * *

Fitzgerald Grant III was nervous the next morning as he dressed himself in a dazzling, new suit that had been delivered priority from Hugo Boss, picked out by Cyrus the night prior. He adjusted his tie with precision, ensuring it hung down the center of his chest nicely before running a rough, calloused hand over the slick waves in his hair. The day was promising change, beckoning the new reality with each cloud that passed overhead, and Fitz could not wait for it. With Andrew gone, things would be far disparate at the courthouse. The respect, the control, that would be issued to California's own governor, well, the man could practically taste it.

On the other hand, at the luxurious Hotel Healdsburg, Olivia Pope topped off her black pencil skirt, pointed black stilettos, and printed houndstooth blouse with a sophisticated, jeweled, onyx bracelet. Marc Jacobs' Daisy perfume adorned the velvety brown canvas of skin and seeped into the fibers of her clothing, giving her a pleasant floral scent that went easy on the nostrils. Her notes were scattered on the desk table, beside her black coffee that she'd gotten that morning from downstairs. Liv always preferred her coffee black; It was stronger that way, and Lord only knew how strong Olivia needed that caffeine to be. She swiftly retrieved the papers and glided them into her folder, putting the folder into her large Michael Kors bag that she'd switched to in order for her outfit and purse to match. Upon snatching up her blazer and going downstairs, the cab was transporting the woman to the Grant residence at 9:23 a.m. It pulled up at about 10:15, causing Fitz to jump a bit, not expecting her to arrive so early. Cy, who was enjoying the breakfast that Mellie had prepared in the kitchen, was to be expected. He fretted utterly too much, but Fitz was secretly grateful. No one had cared enough about him to get worried besides Cyrus. The governor tried to maintain his composure, however, when he caught a glimpse of how delicious Olivia's calves looked as she strutted up the walk, exuding the same confidence she never left the bed without. He cleared his throat and admired from afar until she rung the doorbell. Never had that ring sounded so sweet to his ears.

"Hello, Olivia," he greeted as he opened the door. She grinned affably, as did he.

"Good morning, Governor Grant," she continued as Fitz closed the door behind her, "I know that it's a bit early, but I wanted to brief you on the reporters. In order to ge-"

"We had to agree to some exclusive interviews with _The New York Times_ and _The California Star_. It's alright. Cy told me this morning. He's in there eating with Mellie. If you want, she made breakfast," he proposed. The corny beam he wore at the baffled expression on Olivia's face was a sight to behold. She was, no doubt, awed that he knew information that she had yet to tell him. Liv wasn't used to working with clients who did their own work; They usually expected her to do everything for them, but the Governor of California greeted her with a congenial surprise. Especially in the midst of her astounded state, she didn't even realize that she was in fact eyeing the delectable way that the new suit complimented his frame. Fitz followed her gaze, smirking faintly, until he seized those eyes of hers. "Olivia," he began, licking his lips before his next phrase (a nervous habit that was unintentionally attractive). "I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable last night… I know I was out of line with the 'let's be inapp-"

"Governor Grant, please. Let's just.. not bring it up again," she reasoned coolly. He nodded in agreement, but the romantic inside him screamed in protest. Fitz wanted to bring it up every minute that he was with her. He had tasted her luscious lips but one time, and that feeling was one he would never forget. Such thoughts tempted him so well that he struggled to push them away, cascading his mind, leaving blissful unrest that he oddly enjoyed, because the thoughts were of such a person as Olivia. She wanted to. Yes, she certainly wanted a piece of Fitz, emotionally, physically, but if she did that, what kind of woman would she become? One who salvages broken men from unsuspecting wives? A whore? Of course, a steamy affair with a seductive political figure would have any woman jumping, but Liv was not just any woman. She'd been raised better than that. She would not forfeit all of her hard-earned success for some fling.

The two eyed each other carefully before Liv stepped to the side lithely, adding a curt smile in attempts to maintain a good standing with her client. Upon sight, both Cy and Mellie grinned at Olivia and stood to greet her with tender embraces.

"Good morning, Liv," Cyrus greeted, swallowing the last of his orange juice. He took note of how quickly Fitz rushed to grab Olivia a dish, how quickly he poured her a glass of juice. Nothing ever slipped past Cyrus, and the little crush that the governor was developing for Olivia was no exception.

"Morning, Olivia," Mellie obliged merrily.

"Good morning, everyone," Olivia replied, with a warm tone. She sat her blazer on the chair at the petite eat-in dining table that sat in front of a french-paned bay window. A spread of bacon, potatoes, toast, and eggs on the island, accompanied by utensils and such, lured in the young attorney with every waft she received. Though she hated to admit it, Liv was a sucker for bacon (grease and all). Fitz simpered gingerly at the doe-eyed expression she wore as she neared the plethora of food.

"I was just making you a plate," he offered, encapturing Olivia's eyes by the distinct raunchiness of his tone. No one else would have caught the suggestive detail, but Liv knew exactly what that tone signified. Besides, she could hardly notice that he'd been gawking over her legs all morning. It was no secret that Fitz was enticed by Olivia, and Olivia by Fitz, but she couldn't help but think that his hungry eyes were avoidable. _Maybe I should have worn pantyhose_ , she thought, _Who am I kidding? I hate those things._ Her inquisitive brow raised was the only gesture she needed in order to say what she wanted. "What?" he defended, "I'm only being a good host." At that, Olivia laughed, light bursting in her irises.

"I'm sorry but the real host here is Mellie. I mean, look at all this food," she admired.

"Well, I did help…" They both chuckled.

"With what?" she challenged, smirking in triumph during the long pause that followed.

"Okay, maybe not this time," Fitz surrendered, "but I do make a mean spaghetti."

"Mm, I'm impressed," she replied, taking the plate that Fitz handed her and filling it with a spoonful of potatoes and some eggs. "I can't say I was expecting that." As he handed her the silverware, he purposely placed his hand atop hers, causing her to jerk her head in his direction.

"I'd love to make it for you sometime," he told her, searching her eyes for her true heart's desire, but she looked away before he had a chance to dissect her every breath. As agonizing as it was, Olivia slid her hand away from beneath his, closing her fingers around the knife and fork.

"That's alright, Governor Grant," she assured not so surely, refusing eye contact and heading toward the table. Fitz watched as she walked away, wishing that he had more game, or more sex appeal, more whatever it took to win Olivia over. Liv joined the conversation between Mellie and Cyrus, catching Fitz's glance every now and then as he pretended to be rehearsing his speech at the island.

Cyrus observed them analytically, counting every glance between them. The budding relationship he had found cute, really, but he had hope that it was merely a phase. There was precisely no time for a scandalous affair with Presidential nominations coming in the next year. The funny thing was, Fitz didn't give a damn about the nomination, not over Olivia.

 _Twenty-one._

That was the number of looks mutually shared between Olivia Pope and Fitzgerald Grant III in fifteen minutes.

* * *

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Today, it brings me great sorrow to say goodbye to my Lieutenant Governor of three years, Andrew Nichols. Together, we have created better beaches, a better education system, and better transportation with Littering Laws, the READ Act, and the FAST Act." He gave a dramatic pause. "Despite the grief I feel for my colleague and friend's resignation, we must acknowledge the exceptional work he has offered in order to make this a finer state for you, me, and generations to come. So instead of giving Mr. Nichols a bittersweet goodbye, I want to give him a humble, sincere thank-you, on behalf of myself, the California legislature system, and California's noble citizens. We are grateful for each moment you have spent with us over the course of these last few years, and can only hope that your future will provide you with more opportunities for your innovation, dedication, and intelligence to radiate and make the world we live in _that_ much better. Most of all, I would like to wish you joy and happiness with each corner of life that you greet. California, today we are saying goodbye to a venerable man whose light has shined, and changed this great state we call home because of it. Let him be an inspiration for all of us to shine our lights as we become not only the literal, but also the figurative 'Sunshine State'. Thank you."

Fitz delivered his address to the State after Andrew's resignation speech and even landed a spot on not just California new stations, but also on CNN, FOX News, and MSNBC. He had done it just as suavely as Cyrus advised, and the crowd simply loved it. An explosion of applause followed his ending remarks, leaving a proud beam on Fitz's face as he waved and went back into the State Capitol building.

"You did great," Mellie complimented, giddy with the attention she'd been obtaining from the media regarding her sophisticated, blue sheath dress.

"Thanks," he replied.

"Very good, Fitz," Cy said, "Now all we've gotta get through are these interviews. I already told them they have seven minutes each, that's it." Fitz nodded in confirmation as the four of them (Mellie, Fitz, Cyrus, and Olivia, that is) continued walking toward the office.

"Excuse me, you all. I'm going to run to the women's room. I'll be back to prep for the interviews," Liv explained, walking toward the bathroom.

"Now that I think about it, I could go too," Fitz added, taking off leisurely in the same direction. Mellie, well she thought nothing of the scenario. But Cyrus? He knew it was more than a dismissible coincidence.

Just as Olivia reached to open the door to the Ladies' Room, the governor tenderly grabbed her arm, forcing her body to turn around and face him. For a moment, all she did was stare blankly at his hand on her body, determining whether or not she should be angry that he had the gall to make physical contact or grateful that his touch was so pleasing. In reality, she was frustrated with her own body, frustrated that he gained control over her every time he touched her, and even more so, frustrated that she never wanted it to stop.

"Governor Grant-" He let go.

"Be honest. How was the speech?" She released a casual sigh and crossed her arms across her chest, moving in front of the water fountain between the two restrooms so as not to get hit by the door.

"It was… good." Fitz saw right through her 'good' review. He was well aware that she did not think his speech was 'good'.

"I said, to be honest," he countered, jerking his neck back slightly.

"You could've done better," she confessed. "I know you could've done better."

"Why do you say that?" He drew his eyebrows toward each other in mere confusion. Hadn't he 'done great' like Mellie had said? Everyone applauded for him. He hadn't noticed anyone looking at him as if he were a disgrace to the name of California. The idea of him bringing shame to his own name drove Fitz crazy in the bone-chilling minute that Olivia took her time in replying.

"You're too cold. Your voice, although it makes people want to listen, isn't enough to carry a speech. You have to connect to the people. They have to feel like they know you, not like they _want_ to know you. If you fix that, your approval ratings would rise..." Her business-like, stoic stare melted into something much more vulnerable when he abruptly brushed a thumb beneath her chin. Jolting through her was an unfamiliar feeling, a feeling of futile uncertainty.

Undoubtedly, the pair were not well acquainted. Only three days had passed, and the few interactions they had shared were all business related- Disregarding the kiss-that-never-was. But still, there was something that stirred inside of them when they shared a glance. There was undeniable chemistry between them, manifesting itself each minute. Sure, Fitz didn't even know Olivia's favorite color, and Olivia didn't even know Fitz was allergic to shellfish, but none of that mattered. None of that matters in love.

Without warning, he pulled her alongside him to the empty conference room beside the Men's room on the left and shut the door behind them. The light from the large projector screen allowed them to vaguely sketch each others' features though they didn't need it. Fitzgerald had seen Liv's face so many times in his dreams he practically could have drawn it. Olivia, all she needed to hear was his crushed-velvet voice. As she felt his lips draw closer to hers, she pressed her index finger against his nose and pushed his face away. "I can't-"

"Shhh," he soothed, smiling weakly as he again adored her beauty. Fitz often found himself wondering how a woman could be so beautiful, so exquisite.

"It's been three day-"

"Shhh," he repeated, slithering a hand to the small of her back and rubbing it contentedly. Liv willingly looked into his eyes as her heart rate hastened and her senses stood at attention. "Olivia, I don't want anything that you don't want. If you don't want this," he paused to indicate the two of them, "then I don't want it either, but I would feel like the biggest idiot in the world if I never told you this- You are absolutely beautiful, stunning." Liv would've been lying to herself if she said she wasn't swooning over the man, but her conscience was knocking on the door of temptation, trying to wake her up from the dream she was in. She couldn't do that with him. She simply couldn't. It went against everything she believed in, and what's more; Everything she worked for.

"I can't do this."

"I don't want you to. Just… stand here with me for a minute." Gravity was trying its hardest to bring them together but came up short when her hands remained at her sides. The quiet buzzing of the projector in the background was barely heard, as their heavy breaths heightened in pace. Olivia and Fitz didn't need to kiss to feel that incomparable connection. They simply needed to be near each other. An eternity could have passed between them and they wouldn't've noticed.

It was safe to say that Olivia forgot entirely about going to the Ladies' Room.

* * *

"Fitz," Cyrus laughed anxiously. He had made sure to greet the governor on his way out of the interviews with his important news. "Someone is here to see you," he informed.

"Who is it?" They strolled and conversed at the same time, leaving no wasted second.

"Please just remember that the walls are not soundproof." Fitz was definitely puzzled. Soundproof walls? Who would need such in a Capitol building? His office was ahead of them, so he did know that whatever Cyrus had to say, he had better go ahead and say it.

"Cy...," he warned.

"Go ahead," Cyrus told him, upon reaching the office door, gesturing him forward. He wanted to be as far away from that room as possible when Fitz saw who'd come to visit. The man entered and left his advisor behind. Oh, Cy had been right to warn him indeed, for what greeted Fitz on the other side was the devil, or the closest thing to it on Earth.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite disappointment. Hey, son." Fitz swallowed hard, very hard.

"Dad."

* * *

 _I'm so sorry for this delay! I've been extremely tied up with school, etc. I hope that you all enjoy this chapter! Is anyone still watching the actual Scandal? I know a lot of gladiators on Twitter and such quit watching. What do you all think will happen next? I sincerely appreciate each of your reads, favorites, and follows. Thank you!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Fitz's heart leaped into his throat, and his stomach churned unnaturally at the sight of his father. Jerry had murky blue eyes, harsh lines of age, and a few sparse licks of white-ish silver hair falling toward his face. He certainly hadn't taken the years with grace, as he looked older than he actually was, but that wouldn't stop the likes of Big Jerry from still attempting to be the player he'd been when he was young. The sight of the man nearly frightened Fitz, since he'd watched the suave, attractive father he used to call 'Dad' turn into an elderly, unsightly man. Sure, his name was Fitzgerald Grant I, but everyone simply knew him as 'Big Jerry', and it'd be better if one spared the details on the origins of _that_ name. To Fitz, however, he was Dad, Fitzgerald Grant I, and his worst nightmare all the same.

"Well aren't you going to say you're glad I'm here? Anything, son?" The distinct frown that Fitz wore upon his lips merely answered the question for itself. An entire three days' worth of work had been halted in order to solve the repugnant crisis that was Big Jerry and Mellie. The son released a bitter grunt and trotted around to the back of his desk, where his chair was, and forced his 'Old Man' out of the way.

"No, I am not glad that you're here. In fact, I wish you weren't here," he uttered, pure venomous rancor oozing from every syllable. So many people's lives had been put on hold for the drama that Big Jerry had caused, and he had the audacity to ask why Fitz wasn't elated to see him? The only two upsides the the situation that'd resulted were the removal of Andrew as Lieutenant Governor, and meeting the remarkably lovely Olivia Pope. Even still, the amount of casualties, such as Mark Machado, Mellie's peace of mind and body, Olivia's time, and Cyrus' stress were not overlooked. Consequently, as you could imagine, Fitz was all but jubilant to see his father's pitiful presence in the Governor's office. A stare down ensued, with the two sets of blue-ish green-ish grey-ish eyes refusing to glance away. There was a serene, quiet, low hum of the air conditioning that could be heard, accompanied with their breaths. When he deemed it long enough, Big Jerry chuckled, his eyes crinkling loosely at the outer corners as he sat in one of the chairs facing Fitz's desk.

"Oh, you're just as stubborn as you ever were, Fitz." His son found the light-hearted comment nowhere in the neighborhood of funny.

"What do you want?" He asked through gritted teeth. It was taking just about every ounce of virtue in him not to beat the man to a fraction of a pulp, with his fist clenched at his side and his foot tapping anxiously on the dark, traditional rug.

"Nothing much. I wanted to congratulate you on your speech." They both knew very well that the reason Jerry had come to Fitz's office was because Andrew stepping down had given Jerry clue enough that his son had found out about the debacle between him, Mellie, Andrew, and the newspaper. Soon, Fitz's vexation began to dissolve into melancholiness and sorrow whilst he plopped down lazily into his plush office chair. The faint sound of Fitz's nail scratching the arm of the chair only made Big Jerry more anxious, as he'd never done anything so cruel toward his son like sleeping with his wife, or raping her for that matter.

"Why'd you do it?" The question was transparent enough, and was greeted with an uneasy exhale from Big Jerry. In attempts to stall, the father gazed out of the window behind Fitz that offered a view of a glistening Chase Bank skyscraper in the distance as well as a few busy streets. His admiration was cut short, though, when Fitz slammed his iron fist upon his desk and demanded his father's attention. "Why'd you do it?" He never yelled, which had surprised Big Jerry since he'd always known Fitz to raise his voice when plagued with aggression. Instead, the son was tranquil, really, but the fire burning behind his eyes was not.

"Like I owe you an explanation! Like you actually loved he-"

"It doesn't matter!" There was the scream. There was the high level of volume that'd become expected of Fitz in an argument. "You raped her because you wanted to ruin me? Because you wanted to see me out of office?" The yelling match had clearly gotten itself underway, with Big Jerry laughing off the accusations and leaning back leisurely in his seat.

"She gave me consent! You think she really didn't want to-"

"Stop! Stop lying to me!" Fitz let out a concentrated exhale, taking a moment to recollect his scattered thoughts. "That's why you made me marry her isn't it?" he inquired, his tone returning to normal.

"I made you marry her because you said you wanted power, and no man in this country gets the kind of political power you want without a wife! You want to live the American Dream? You want to be a politician? You've got to have the American Dream family!"

"'Cause that's what you had, right? 'Cause you were so loyal to Mom, right? 'Cause I never heard you bang your secretary in your office while you made me sit outside!"

"You know what? I am no-" There was a petite knock on the door before Olivia barged in with an agitated expression.

"Just wanted to let you know that this entire side of this building can hear you," she informed, her tone a bit snappy and her body language giving off the utter irritation she'd festered. Big Jerry turned to her in shock and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"And who are you to interrupt my son and I's conversation?! Secretaries stay up front!" Before Olivia could get out another feisty word, Fitz rose from his chair and rushed to where she stood by the door, holding it open with her hand. The manner in which he leaned against the doorframe with such an air of suaveness made Liv's calculated breaths begin to run recklessly. The man came so close to her that she could essentially taste the cinnamon flavor of his breath on her hungry tongue. She tilted her head upward in the slightest to look at his face, into his eyes. They paused for a moment in their brief time warp before he finally spoke. He grinned his crooked smile and forgot about his father for those few seconds, and channeled in onto the sublime creature that was Olivia.

"Liv, please… My father is…" She gave him a half amused, half bothered stare. "What?"

"Liv? Governor Grant you know that we-"

"Olivia," he corrected, maintaining the low tone they'd been using with a beam. She giggled, drawing her eyes away from his in order to ensure that he didn't see the fleeting joyfulness he'd brought to them.

"Keep it down," she warned, leaning toward the side to give Big Jerry a death glare so icy it was a miracle he didn't freeze from it. Olivia spun on her heels and walked out, Fitz gingerly shutting the door behind her, not even realizing the goofy smile that had formed on his face.

"Right, son," Big Jerry, called, bringing Fitz away from the terse interaction with Olivia. "'Cause when it comes to fidelity, you and I are _so_ different."

* * *

With the day's work at a close, the quartet of Mellie, Fitz, Cyrus, and Olivia sat at an esteemed Sacramento restaurant called Dawson's Steakhouse that Cyrus had picked out specifically to thank Olivia for all of her fare-free labor that had inevitably saved Fitzgerald Grant's reputation, career, and ultimately his shot at the presidency. She wore a sexy yet elegant red dress that was trimmed with lace around the bosom area and soon dissolved into cream lace spaghetti straps and more lace at the very bottom. She furnished the look with plain cream heels, long, attention-drawing earrings, a staple red lipstick, and of course, her purse to match. Fitz couldn't help but to ogle at her as the walked to the table, for she was clothed entirely, but she was naked of her usually conservative, office style. The sight of such an already stunning woman owning her own seductiveness, well, let's just say that even though Fitz could not call her a lover, he did not appreciate the ravenous stares from other men.

"If you will excuse me for just a moment, I think I see my friend Denise over there. I'll be right back," Mellie excused, gliding out of her chair and across the room to greet her friend. Cyrus perks up and nods, preparing to follow her.

"My wife gets her nails done with Denise. She'll say something to Janet later if I don't go say hello," Cy explained hurriedly before slipping a wink to Fitz, who in return offered him a grateful chuckle. Fitz had previously informed Cyrus that he'd wanted to personally thank Olivia for all she'd done with a gift, and Cyrus surprisingly agreed that it'd be best for Fitz to give it to her alone. Once left by their lonesome, Fitz gave Olivia his crooked smile and reached into his back pocket for a miniscule, crimson box.

"Olivia, you've done a lot for me by fixing this," he paused to reference the unfortunate circumstances under which the two met, "and I just wanted to give you a token of my appreciation before you leave tomorrow." Olivia's hands could not even move to accept the gift, for she was too rooted in her spot from astonishment. They both knew that the Cartier box that Fitz was urging her to take was far more than a 'token of appreciation'. It was simply asking and yet stating; 'Do you want to try _this_? Because if you want to, I want to do _this_ with you.' With hesitance practically trickling out of her ears, she accepted it. As her hand touched Fitz's when she retrieved the package, Fitz began to feel accomplished, for that meant that what he saw and felt with her was also what she saw and felt with him. That feeling only lasted for about three seconds on approximation. Once Olivia opened the box and saw the diamond encrusted bracelet on a canvas of gold, she shut the box immediately and pushed it back in his direction, shaking her head rapidly.

"No, Governor Grant, I can't accept this. No," she said to him, her tone firm and rather reprimanding. Before she could manage to get the gift fully away from her though, Fitz pushed it back and held it on her side of the table with his hand, looking her in her eyes intently.

"First of all, I thought we were past this; Call me Fitz. And two, yes, you can accept this. I want you to accept this," he insisted. Both of their arms fell to their sides, questioning each other with their eyes for a moment, grateful that the others dining at the institution were too busy conversing among themselves to notice the suggestively romantic exchange between the two. In all reality, the situation was far more confusing than romantic, at least for Olivia anyways. How could she connect with a man after what had summed up to be four days? A spoiled, rich, white governor from California who's mess she'd handled, at that. It was just unfathomable to her, but yet it was happening anyway, and it became increasingly clear that no matter what either of them did, the universe would not take no for an answer when it came to putting the two of them being as close together as possible. Her eyes fluttered upward, avoiding his eye contact as she whispered softly,

"Fitz." He smiled minimally.

"Liv," he replied, enjoying her vulnerability. "Just-" The man did not have the opportunity to finish expressing his thought to Olivia for Mellie and Cyrus' voices were coming nearer, so before either of them could see the pricey gift (Fitz spent $5,000 on the bracelet that was covered in clear cut diamonds on a bangle of 18 Karat gold), she slipped the box in her purse, giving Fitz a countenance the screamed 'I can't believe you', with a scowl. She'd been forced to accept such an expensive, extravagant gift as, rather, a token of Fitz's infatuation. Conversely, Fitz wore a smug expression as his wife and mentor returned to the table. It was what he'd wanted; For Olivia to have the bracelet. Sensing upcoming questions about what he and Liv discussed, Fitz directed the attention toward Mellie and Cyrus. "So how's Denise?"

* * *

Cy's snores plagued the ears of only Fitz and Olivia, who were the only two of the four that'd managed to stay awake during the movie they'd all agreed, well semi-agreed, on; "The Proposal". Fitz nudged his wife to wake her as gently as possible in order for her to say goodbye to Olivia, who was leaving in the morning back to her office in D.C. He proceeded to wake Cyrus.

"I'll be right back. I've got to use the restroom," Liv told him, breezing past him and into the hall before he could object. _Okay_ , she thought, _I've got to make this quick_. Her stomach churned, twisting and flipping itself repeatedly as she climbed the stairs and took the route that she assumed lead to the Grants' bedroom. Luckily, she'd guessed right. Taking no time to admire the abstract decor, she delved into the purse she'd brought along with her and grabbed the Cartier box.

* * *

In no time, after finishing her deed, she was downstairs, offering frail beams to a half-conscious Mellie and Cyrus, who rubbed their eyes vigorously, adjusting to the bright, radiant light in the foyer. Mellie, once fully aware, reached for a hug from Olivia, who returned the gesture gratefully. If anything, Olivia had felt nothing but sympathy for Mellie throughout the entire ordeal. Despite the fact that the woman had cheated on Fitz, no woman ever deserves to be raped, and certainly not by her father-in-law. Liv recognized that, and only hoped that what she'd done had lifted a bar from her hunched shoulders.

"Thank you so much, Olivia," Mellie whispered to her, squeezing the attorney firmly and closing her eyes in gratitude before she pulled back and they kissed each other's cheeks.

"No problem, Mellie," she replied. "I'll see you the next time you're in D.C. We'll all go to dinner," she ensured with a polite giggle. Next, she shifted her focus to Fitz, who's now deflated eyes looked upon her with fantasies replaying in his mind. Before she could even decide whether to reach for a handshake or a hug, Fitz swiped her up into a tepid embrace, his muscular arms holding her securely. Olivia inhaled his Dolce & Gabbana cologne in bliss, but she drew her arms back after the number of seconds that she'd thought appropriate.

"Thank you, Olivia." His eyes were so fiercely locked onto hers that she would've felt rude not to return the eye contact.

"Of course, Governor," she fluffed. Cyrus slid into his suit jacket.

"Mind if I eat my left-overs before I leave? I don't want to wake Janet with the microwave and all of that," he asked with a bantering tone to him. All of the quartet laughed, and Mellie gave him an amused grin whilst saying,

"Sure, Cy." That being done, Fitz retrieved Olivia's créme shawl that she'd thrown over her shoulders with ease earlier in the evening to shield her effortlessly sleek shoulders from the chilled, brisk California night air.

"Olivia, I'll pick you up at six tomorrow morning to take you the airport," Cyrus called, stealthily creeping to the desolate and dark kitchen to uncover his restaurant leftovers. Liv simply giggled in response, considering Cy had left so rapidly that she hadn't the chance to insist that she take a taxi like she'd been doing the entire trip. She took a sheepish saunter toward the door and waved at the remaining Grant couple.

"I'll see you all," she released awkwardly, but Fitz held the door for her and brought his presence dangerously adjacent to hers.

"Wait, let me walk you out." The governor knew that by doing such a gesture, he was starting to play a game with fire that he nor Olivia would win, but he was willing to take the chance for the exquisite, intellectual beauty that loomed before him with unsure breaths. Mellie's goodbye became soon forgotten words when Fitz shut the door behind them, and they stood directly beneath the dun porch light that the man had purposely left un-glistening in the midnight dusk. His hand slithered with a lack of hesitation to the small indentations in her back that the fitted fabric of her dress left available for feeling to the bare hand. With his hand placed there, he jerked her forward so that her sternum and bosom were pressed firmly against his abs, which teased Olivia, even beneath Fitz's button down. Unlike every other moment in which the two were too close to hold themselves back, the young lawyer didn't object her client's actions. Instead, she allowed herself to melt into his authoritative touch for the first time, feeling her insides beginning to puddle at her feet without shame. The shield that blocked any trace of emotion from her eyes had been unlocked and broken free with the touches and hot breathing sensations of Fitzgerald Grant III. A smirk planted itself upon his lips when he noticed her lack of resistance. The man decided if he didn't seize the opportunity that was before him, it might've never presented itself ever again.

Their lips fit into the crevices of each other's like it was the solution to a one-thousand piece jigsaw puzzle. Olivia's nose offered Fitz a supple nuzzle when her hands wandered to the back of his head and pressed him unto her in the kiss, yearning for more of him. He fought the urge to chuckle as his tongue poked questioningly at the opening of her lips in a way of begging for entry. She moaned in delight when his tongue swirled against hers with several sensual licks. Smacking sounds began to sound from the two, but they didn't seem to care, for they continued. When Liv's breathing began to hitch as her body rose with arousal, she released the lip-lock, initiating eye contact between her and her lips' most current victim.

"I'm going back to D.C.," she stated with unmistaken blunt nature, like it wasn't an apparent token of common knowledge. He bobbed his head knowingly.

"I know." To avoid any uncomfortable, cringe-worthy exchanges, Liv trotted toward the taxi that had just arrived at the curb. Luckily enough, the porch, with its covering of brick overhead and around the sides, leaving only the front and back exposed, and its pitch-black light status, the driver surely couldn't have seen them release their kiss. Once they reached the vehicle, Fitz opened the door for Olivia, and she bowed her head graciously, getting inside for the ride back to her hotel. "I'll call you." Her rejection didn't have the chance to get out of her mouth, for Fitz shut the door and gave her an amiable wave, cueing the taxi driver to pull away into the tranquil night.

* * *

Fitz had changed into his pajamas, brushed his teeth, and washed his face twice but he couldn't erase the feeling of Olivia against him out of his thoughts. The sensation of her lips against his was so heavenly it still left him with a faint tingling around his mouth. He released an exhausted sigh, proud of himself for eliciting the vulnerable, _other_ side of Olivia that she was so reluctant to reveal to him. The unsettled oozing that he felt in the pit of his stomach had finally subsided, and in its place was a mind-hazing satisfaction that is often felt when getting the desired response from a crush. As he sat on his side of the bed, which was empty due to Mellie's late night painting, he started his routine of fluffing the pillows that housed his side, nearest to the window. The crimson Cartier box was sitting brazenly in between two stacked pillows, staring Fitz's instantaneously dejected eyes right back in the face. He slid the box into his lap and lifted it open with quivering fingers. Only, the box was empty.

She had taken the bracelet.

* * *

 _I feel so terrible for not updating this story in forever! In all honesty, I forgot. I was very stressed with finals, and after I got out of school, I went straight into working and I got so tired and busy that it slipped my mind every night. Typically, I write piece by piece, and writing so sporadically caused me to take a long time to write this. I am so sorry! Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Is Olitz starting to happen, or is Olivia stringing him along? Thank you for the support! I hope that you all are enjoying your summer :)_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Upon Olivia's concise and rather mundane return to her home-town of Washington, D.C., both she and Fitz's lives resumed to their traditionally tedious work schedules. Despite Liv's intriguing, unpredictable field of work, she found herself accustomed to the constant life of political crisis, and had nearly become immune to the jarring response that many still received upon hearing the pressing matters of politicians. Fitz, though across the country, could not keep the dam that held his endless thoughts of Olivia Pope from breaking. Each day- day in and day out, sunrise and sunset, lights on and lights off, sane and insane- the governor wondered helplessly of what the mixed signals he had received could mean. One moment, she denied him reluctantly, and the next she was making out with him on the porch of the home that he shared with his wife. Cyrus, as usual, was doing the strenuous work for Fitzgerald, which left Fitz with plenty of time to contemplate these ideas every day for the next month and a half. The day that contemplating came to an end however, was the President's birthday ball, to which Fitz, Mellie, and Cyrus had all been invited to.

With Olivia living in Washington, D.C. and Cyrus tending well to the friendship between he and Liv, the Californian governor predicted that he had an eighty-five percent chance of interacting with the most sophisticatedly sultry woman he had faced in his entire forty-eight years of life. He dwelled intently on how he would manage a way of pilfering away Olivia during his entire journey to D.C., yet beside him all the while was a sleeping Mellie- his wife, whose hand was intertwined purposefully into Fitz's uninterested limbs.

A puncturing _ding-dong_ riled Liv from her slumber, along with swirling perplexity due to the late hour during which an unannounced guest had arrived at her door. If she was being honest with herself, she had maxed out her expenditure of energy deposits weeks ago after her return home, and she was running on three to five hours of sleep each day. Instead of rising to inquire who had arrived at her apartment, she should have rolled over and lull-ed herself back to sleep among her Egyptian cotton sheets, but curiosity had unfortunately gotten the best of her. Her fingers fumbled with the ties on her robe that shielded her velvety amber skin, clothed in little but a silk and lace gown ensemble. A terse glance through the peephole had revealed her all but expected visitor. She resisted the urge to giggle- or so at least that's what she thought the urge was- and at last Olivia opened the door to reveal her somewhat lover.

Upon laying hungry eyes on Olivia, Fitz released a satisfied gush of air. If anyone were to ask him, it was great to see Liv, nothing more. In his head, however, he knew that it had been far too long since his eyes had the privilege of viewing such an exquisite woman. He took a moment to take in her glistening skin that flowed so beautifully about the robe and gown that adorned her. Small ganders of her brown canvas stopped to say 'peek-a-boo' in the miniscule holes left open by the lace. Soft, dark hair brushed over her shoulders, accompanied by a few effortlessly tousled strands that teased the middle-aged governor. Fingers painted that same neutral taupe (a taupe Fitz had learned to appreciate as sexy) rested casually on the edge of the door, holding it open, whilst she lounged slightly against it. Her lips were painted into a sny smile and her doe eyes fluttered when they locked with his. Olivia was the essence of milk flooding into a glass for a midnight snack; smooth, velvety, rich, and thick enough to quench any thirst. Just before he spoke, Fitz managed a glance down her arm. _There_ was the glistening Cartier bracelet, housed on her dainty wrist and twinkling proudly.

"I though I'd stop by," he offered coolly. Liv chuckled easily and let go of her grip on the door to step toward him.

"Stop by? Where are you supposed to be?" she inquired, striving to sound as if she was a bit disappointed that he'd strayed away from his government duties to **steal** a moment from her. Inside, however, she was elated to see him. Somehow, some way, she'd harbored a longing to know that man, to be with that man, to kiss that man, even if she knew it was wrong. With her consistent inching closer to Fitz, she soon ran into his chest and she was now looking up at him as he towered above her in seductive enigma.

"Here. With you." One more giggle escaped Liv's lips, and the force drawing them together became far too futile. Her hands drew up on the sides of his face, pulling his down to hers. A kiss ignited from a spark into a wildfire. Their tongues swirled and swallowed, jabbed and jitterbugged, glazed and glided- all until their lungs begged desperately for air. They released dawdling-ly before taking a moment to read each other's eyes, like they had already done expertly so many times before.

"Okay," she granted.

"You're wearing the bracelet," he noted, beaming. She returned the gesture and gave the man a meek shrug.

"Just to be clear, I could've paid for it myself." That was the sassy, independent spunk about Liv that Fitz just couldn't get enough of. Perhaps it was the multitude of sides to the woman that intrigued him. One moment she was sophisticated and professional, but next, she was goofy, bouncy, and light. Then she'd fuck his head up and go sensual only to change once more and be soft, fragile, vulnerable, and -if she dared to let it slip- _broken_.

"Liv I-"

"I know," she interrupted, "I just don't want money to be-"

"Hey, relax," he soothed, sliding his colossal hands on top of her much smaller ones, and rubbing tiny circles on her palms with the pads of his thumbs. Her breathing became stagnant, rigid, and her muscles were tensing with every passing second. Daydream Olivia had taken part in her fair share of fun, but the guarded Olivia was back for her shift, promptly on time. Her hands fell from Fitz's and she stared at him in shock of what she almost caught herself doing. Though happiness was a value of hers, she truly believed that happiness was unattainable without success. She knew for sure, just like Fitz, that what they were about to engage in- whether relationship, sexual, emotional, or all of the above- would taint success for them both.

Olivia Pope was a force to be reckoned with, but no one ever handed her the title and stature that she held. She worked for it, undoubtedly harder than Fitz worked to be governor, if you can call that work. The inheritance of a brilliant mind from her mother and father only proved to be but a meager step to her career. Many in D.C. had brilliant minds, but they all didn't put in the drive that Olivia had to be considered for partner after only a humble two years at her firm. To sacrifice all she had worked for for the better part of her life to oblige a slithering desire for a married man was not excuse enough to Olivia. She slid her fingers over the clasp on the bracelet to unhook it and cupped it into Fitz's hand, being sure to avoid the befuddled countenance he wore.

"You should go now," she suggested, her eyes cast downward at the opal hued tile of the floor's cozy, modest common area.

"Olivia, I can't take this back," he pushed, outstretching the expensive jewelry toward her. Still, she eschewed his gaze and shook her head in feeble nature.

"Governor Grant, you have to. You should go. Cyrus and Mellie are probably looking for you," she said, firm in her decision. To solidify her words, she hoisted her head and finally bore eye contact with the man in front of her, whose eyes were clouded to signal the oncoming storm of despondency and obfuscation.

"Liv-"

"Olivia," she corrected, backing away into her apartment's polished, wooden door frame. "Goodnight, Governor Grant." And with that, she shut the door and went back to bed.

* * *

Cyrus punched in the number to contact Olivia in sheer excitement to see such a dear friend. Liv had already gathered that he, Fitz, and Mellie were in town for the President's Birthday Ball, but Cyrus didn't know that. He was enthused to surprise Olivia with his presence in town, and hoped to court her out to brunch or something of the sort. You know, esteemed people in D.C. didn't do breakfast or lunch- they always did brunch, so it would obviously follow that the dynamic duo do brunch. After a few rings, she answered with the sound of faint voices, ringing telephones, and running copiers in the background.

"Cyrus." Cy couldn't do much but laugh at his apprentice. She was always so stoic when answering the phone, for as long as he'd known her. At first, he tried to encourage her to be more friendly when answering personal calls, but he just accepted that the way of answering phone calls was one thing that simply wasn't going to change about Olivia Pope.

"Liv! Let's do brunch, tomorrow at Firefly," he told her, waiting eagerly for her to tell him that he wasn't in the same city. Despite Liv's prior knowledge, she was well aware of Cy's sense of humor, and played along. Besides, how would he know what took place between she and Fitz the night before anyway?

"Cy, you live in California, we can't just 'do brunch'." Her breezy giggle lightened the mood of the conversation, making Cyrus feel more hope that she would agree to the brunch date.

"Weeeeell," he said, dragging out the 'e', "I just so happen to be in town this week for the President's Birthday Ball with Mellie and Fitz, and I have some spare time on my hands! It's not like I need to be there to change that boy's diapers tomorrow when he meets with our senators." This time, she laughed boisterously, considering that she'd dealt with Fitz firsthand, and had discovered how deathly needy and whiney the man was.

"If you're sure you won't have to leave to bring Fitz his bottle," she bantered, "then yes, let's do brunch tomorrow."

"What time are you free?"

"Is eleven, eleven-fifteen-ish okay? I have a light day tomorrow so I can just come in and finish my work early and then meet you there," she explained. Her eyes scoured about the view of Capitol Hill that the window of her office provided her. People milled about the sidewalks, some on the phone, others trying to hail a taxi. D.C. was definitely chaotic, but she couldn't see herself anywhere else; Especially not in a secluded, quiet, simple place like North Dakota, or even worse- Vermont.

"Eleven-fifteen-ish is perfect Liv. See ya there- oh wait," he interjected, right before she was about to hang up. "Do you think red is more suitable for the Birthday Ball or silver? Mellie keeps bugging us like crazy about it."

"Silver. First Lady Bush is going to wear red."

"How do you always know what she's going to wear?" he asked jokingly.

"It's been a long time since you've lived in D.C., Cyrus," she laughed, "it's starting to show." Her friend laughed as well before humming in agreement.

"Mmmm, you're right. I'll see you, Liv."

"Bye, Cyrus."

* * *

"Well I need for you to not yell at me when I'm just trying to help you!" The sound of the couple bickering was beginning to eat its way inside of Cyrus and drive him insane from the adjoining hotel room.

"How is talking to me like I'm stupid helping me?! I asked you to go through the Senators, Governors, and Cabinet with me but instead you have something to say every time I get an answer wrong!" Fitz's ears were flushing a hue of red from the heat that was rushing to them. Between his disaster visit to Olivia the night prior and Mellie's witty mouth, his patience was wearing thin- almost as thin as the newest iPad that sat somewhere in the hotel room.

"Well ever since the newspaper thing and getting rid of Andrew, you seem to get everything wrong!" The irony of Mellie's boiling words was that Fitz's lack of focus had precisely nothing to do with Andrew Nichols or even his father. He couldn't focus because a woman who was probably a twenty to thirty minute drive away was always on his mind, and he couldn't muster the strength needed to obliterate his thoughts of her. Fitz kept his feelings to himself however, for both his and Olivia's sakes.

"So this is what this is about?! You miss Andrew?! Maybe you married the wrong damn politician Mellie! Go marry Andrew!" Her face contorted into some combined expression of bewilderment, and fury.

"Fitzgerald Grant III! You know you can't-," as she started in on her rant, Mellie could hardly even hear herself. Fitz soon chimed in on top of her, in a tone that harmonized rather poorly.

"You're calling me by my full name now! Oh, I'm sorry, you're my mother now! I can't believe you have the audacity to-"

"-marry Andrew! You and I both know that your father-"

"-can't manage two words to me and now you suddenly have the nerve to-"

"-you be without me?! You'd be lost if I was married to Andrew and even if-"

"Hey!" A booming voice that hadn't yet contributed to the verbal dispute cut both of the Grants off. Standing in the doorway that separated the Grant room from the Beene room was Cyrus Beene, frantic and enraged with the embarrassing complaints he'd just received about the couple's yelling. "You two are not in California. You are in Washington D.C.! That means you cannot yell at each other like you are two hyenas. Behave! And if either one of you wants a chance at the nomination, then you need to play nice and look like a First couple. I don't care if you hate one another! You will not ruin this with your arguing! Now be quiet." Cyrus kept an even, steady volume but spoke with furor that showed he wasn't joking with them.

Mellie and Fitz both scurried off somewhere to get away from the other. But, as he sat on the edge of the bed in exasperation, Fitz decided that he couldn't stand to be in such close proximity of his wife at that moment, and snatched up his suit jacket before storming out of the room and off to catch a taxi.

* * *

Olivia had slaved at her long day of work, and looked forward to watching MSNBC with a bowl of buttery popcorn in her lap and a rich, red glass of wine. Her taste for such marvelous reds had materialized from the dinner she'd shared with her father before she left the next morning to meet the Grants in California. Eli had been gracious enough to provide his daughter with the small service through which he ordered wine so that she too, could enjoy the liquor.

The doors of the elevator gaped to reveal her floor, but instead of the usual scenery in the commons area, there was Fitz, sitting on the floor by Olivia's door, his head against the wall. Liv fought the impulse to sigh grudgingly and took a glance down at the pitiful man. The jokes she'd shared with Cyrus earlier in the day carried a bit of weight. Fitz was dramatic and incapable of handling himself at times. Unluckily for Olivia, she had an instinct that told her to take care of the man, even when she didn't necessarily want to.

"Fitz… What are you doing here?" The quizzical visage she wore didn't exactly encourage Fitz to reply.

"Just a rough day." Her laugh was a glorious chorus to his ear drums.

"That still doesn't answer why you're here." He stood to his feet and stepped nearer to Liv, so that he could hear her jagged breaths. For the life of her, Olivia could not seem to figure out how that man's lush voice made her feel powerless. She hoped he would catch her if she fell, because the way her knees were speaking to her, it could have happened at any moment.

"I wanted to see you." His calloused finger ran against her chin to raise it ever so slightly. When her orbs finally greeted his, he simpered his crooked smile and rested his other hand at the small of her back. She was trapped, but in the most satisfying way she had ever experienced. What a sensation it was to be trapped by that man. "And I know you want to see me. I can see that in your eyes." This was the vulnerable Olivia that he longed for last night. The Olivia that, no matter how vigorously she attempted to, could not conceal how she felt. The Olivia that just prayed not to be broken any farther than she already was.

With a side step, she was in front of her door and unlocking it, to Fitz's sweet consternation. It was clear that she was inviting him in for company when she gestured inside, and Fitz entered without delay. Olivia plopped down her bag near the door and led Fitz to her kitchen, being sure to turn on the light on the way. Once she retrieved a pot, some cooking oil, and a plastic container of popcorn seeds, she handed them off to Fitz.

"Do you know how to make popcorn?" she buzzed. An incredulous expression washed over Fitz's face as he gingerly pushed Olivia to the side.

"Of course I know how to make popcorn. You make it the old fashioned way? I would've thought you'd be more of a microwave girl." They both chuckled heartily as Liv snagged a wide bowl that would be sufficient for the popcorn when it was finished.

"I make real popcorn. If that's old fashioned, then I guess I'm old fashioned," she defended. "The butter's in the refrigerator, and the salt is in the cabinet above you. I'll be right back," she advised, on her way out of the kitchen already. "Try not to burn it." And there was the goofy, bouncy, light Olivia that he found so scrumptious. He laughed inwardly and got to work on the snack whilst Olivia headed to her room. She slid out of her professional-wear and into a pair of black pants, a simplistic black tank top, and a cozy black sweater on top. When she returned, the popcorn was definitely popping, and as far as she could tell, Fitz had managed not to burn it. She watched wordlessly as he buttered and salted the food in the popcorn bowl and presented it to her haughtily.

"Popcorn a la mode," he teased, and she giggled before rising from the bar stool in which she sat to grab two wine glasses and her bottle of wine.

"The couch," she directed, and off they went. She lounged with her knees tucked into her lap, and Fitz contained himself but remained comfortable on his half of the furniture, not exactly as you would expect from a man. Liv was prepared to look over and see her company sprawled out over every inch he could get, but he wasn't. She whispered a 'go figure' to herself and flicked on the television to MSNBC before zoning into the political world and grabbing a fair share of popcorn.

"MSNBC? Are you kidding me?" Fitz had recaptured an enthralled Olivia's attention from the newest political news, something that one typically needed a lot of skill to do. "You spend all day handling politics and then you come home and watch it?" Liv sat forward and began to pour the wine into each of the glasses.

"I love what I do? Is that a problem? Last time I checked, _you_ came over to _my_ place," she reminded. He accepted the wine and snatched the remote out of Olivia's lap, who was unexpecting of the remote robbery. "Hey!" Fitz laughed like a fool who had won the lottery and held the remote in his left hand, the side that was furthest away from her, so that she wouldn't be able to gain access to the plastic item that controlled the television.

"Ah- Nope! I get to pick. You chose the snacks," he tried to compromise. Olivia rolled her eyes playfully and sipped her wine in attempts to let go of some control.

"Don't pick SportsCenter or something like that," she complained. A few flips on the TV led him through the guide of shows on at that moment, and he settled on an old re-run of 'Friends'. Olivia looked at him disbelievingly and munched on some more of the popcorn. "Friends? Isn't this like the 90s? I watched this show in college," she nagged. Fitz trained his eyes on the screen readily.

"I know! It's quality television," he swore.

"Whatever, Fitz." It had finally slipped. No more Fitzgerald, no more Governor Grant, no more Governor. He was finally Fitz, and he loved it.

"Whatever, Livvie." In no time, episode after episode had passed, the popcorn bowl was emptied and so were their glasses of wine. Olivia had fallen asleep with her head rested on the arm on the couch toward the middle of the last episode they had watched. Fitz admired the sight briefly before carrying her to her bedroom, where found to be down the all but pity corridor and to the right. She slept soundly throughout it all, never waking throughout the rest of the night. Fitz took it upon himself to place the glasses and popcorn bowl in the sink before sliding out of her apartment. When he thought back on the evening in his taxi, the four hours he sat in the commons area waiting for Olivia were worth it.

If you asked Fitz, he'd tell you; He would do it all again without hesitation.

* * *

 _I am so sorry that it's taken me so long to get this up! Please forgive me! I've had a lot of schoolwork and my actual job duties that I've been busy with and I haven't had much time to write! Thank you for reading this and bearing with me! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Are you going through Scandal withdrawals? I know I have been. How do you feel about Liv and Fitz's relationship as of now? Thank you again for reading! Please feel free to leave a review! Until next time, love bugs!_


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